Freshman and Senior
by Lalinka
Summary: m Campbell arrives to Stanford college and is put in a room with a popular party-boy Dean Winchester. Dean isn't very happy to be put in one room with a freshman, but that changes, when he becomes Sam's guide in gay sex and love. Dean is troubled by his own past, though. Can Sam worm his way into Dean's battered heart? Unrelated Wincest, mentions of Dean with others.
1. Chapter 1

**-It's been a while since I posted anything, so I decided to try a multichapter that would make me write more often ;) So I present you the first chapter of my College-AU, I hope you'll like it and leave a review on your way back.-**

**Special thanks go to FallenAngel2487 who is not only my constant support and strength, but as to this story, also my beta! 3 Hoorraay!**

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**Chapter 1**

Sam stood in the dorm in front of his new room. He'd gotten accepted to college at the very last minute, because the guy who'd gotten the scholarship first, decided not to go and Sam was second on their list. Why would anyone decline a full ride at the Stanford University, Sam had no idea. When _he'd _been given the offer, he didn't hesitate for a second.

He would miss his parents, but he was more than happy to get out of Lawrence. His high school had been Hell. Sam was smart, smarter than all of his classmates and they never passed the opportunity to rub his nose in it. He remembered the fear of walking down the hall for his next class and the skipping lunches only too well. And it hadn't gotten worse only because Sam wisely chose not to come out and admit he was gay. His classmates figured, his lack of girlfriends was a result of his rather unpopular social status, and frankly, Sam didn't have the time for that anyway.

He was hoping with his heart that college would be different. He knew he wouldn't be overly popular, because he wouldn't be wasting his time on parties instead of studying, but if everybody just left him in peace, it would be enough.

He took a deep breath and knocked. There was no answer and he couldn't help but feel a little relieved.

In the haste of his acceptance, the information about his arrival somewhat got lost, the dorm room he was supposed to get instead of the other guy was taken and he spent a couple long hours sitting on his luggage in the dean's office, waiting to get a room.

To make matters even worse, his roommate was a senior and not even from the same major. While Sam's major was law, this guy - Winchester was his name? - was studying to be a journalist. Sam wasn't getting his hopes up, a senior happy to share a room with a freshman was about as common as unicorns.

Sam used his own key to get inside. He looked around his room. _His_ room. He liked the sound of that. The door was somewhat separating the room in two identical halves. On both sides, there was a simple bed by the wall, a nightstand, two shelves and a small closet. On the opposite side from the door was a window and by that two desks. Both covered in Senior's (as Sam called his roommate in his mind) stuff. Behind the Senior's wall was a small bathroom, too.

Sam sighed, when he noticed the state the room was in. Apparently, nobody warned his roommate about his arrival.

Senior had obviously already unpacked at least half of his bags, if you call throwing your clothes around the room unpacking. Sam's bed was turned into a changing room, judging by the various shirts and jeans on it. When he opened his closet, he found all kinds of shoes, including in-line skates, and the rest of the space was filled with paper boxes with God knows what. Sure enough, after an inspection of the bathroom, he found the shelves hopelessly filled, as well.

Sam dragged his bags through the door and made his way to his bed. He carefully folded each piece of clothing and laid them down on Senior's pillow. He ran a hand through his hair. He seriously didn't want to start off with a fight, but he needed his roommate to give Sam his half of the room back. Or at least a quarter.

The door opened and when Sam turned around, there was a guy, a few years older and about the same high as him. He gaped at him for a moment and then slammed the door behind him.

"Who the fuck are you?" he yelled angrily. "And what are you doing in my room?"

Sam flinched and instinctively took a step back.

"I guess they didn't tell you," he said with a nervous smile. "I'm your new roommate. There was a problem with my room, so they put me here. I'm Sam," he held out his hand.

"You touched my things," said Senior, completely ignoring the offered hand.

"Y-yeah I, I mean, it was on my bed and I-," Sam stuttered, his self-consciousness making him afraid of what would come next.

He just wanted his roommate to _not _hate him. Somewhere deep inside his heart, he was even hoping they would become friends. But that was off the table now. Sam must have the worst people skills ever.

"Don't _ever_ touch my stuff again," Senior hissed as he moved closer to Sam. He was a few inches shorter, yet he managed to look more intimidating.

"I'm sorry," Sam mumbled quietly as he bowed his head.

What a great start of what was supposed to be the best years of his life.

"A freshman," Senior scowled. "They put a fucking freshman in my room. What did I do to anyone?"

And with that, he disappeared in the bathroom. Not too long after that, Sam heard the shower start running.

He fished out a book out of his backpack and sat down on the bed, which seemed like the only place he'd been allowed to use. He stared at the page, but wasn't really reading it. He was going over the last couple of minutes to figure out what had he done wrong.

It was completely unfair! It was not Sam's fault they messed up his admission and it wasn't like he requested to be put in the room with this guy. And Sam had a right to get rid of his clothes on _his _bed. Plus he folded them and returned in even better shape than they were before.

Senior emerged from the bathroom in a towel and though Sam did not even look his way, he was hyperaware of his every move. He pulled his knees to his chin and slouched to take up as little space as possible. He was tall and that usually brought unwanted attention. He had enough sanity to turn the pages in his book to pretend to be reading.

When his roommate finished changing and styling his hair in front of a mirror on his closet door, he made his way to Sam's bed and hovered there for a minute.

Sam's hands started trembling slightly and he was worrying his lower lip between his teeth. He didn't know what to expect. Another outburst? A blow in the face? Maybe he'd laugh at his clothes or the book he was pretending to be reading. The nerves were killing him.

"Hey," a hand dropped on his shoulder. The smell of Senior's aftershave washed over Sam. He smelled good. "Sam, was it?"

Sam blinked up at him, the surprise taking away the ability to speak from him, so he just nodded.

"I think we started off on the wrong foot," Senior smiled and held out his hand toward Sam. "Name's Dean," he shook it, when Sam took his hand. "Sorry about earlier, I wasn't mad at you, I was just mad. They told me I'd have the room all to myself and no offence, but you _are _a freshman."

"It's not like I asked to live with a senior," Sam muttered.

"Now you hurt my feelings," Dean smirked. "Anyway, I'm going out tonight, a friend from my class is throwing this welcome party. So make yourself at home," he winked at Sam.

As the senior - _Dean _- was gathering his stuff and making last adjustments in front of his mirror, Sam had the chance to take a better look at him.

Dean was quite good-looking with his muscular body, tanned skin and golden crown of short-cropped hair. Those were the things that made him look manly. But then there were his lips, freckles, and especially his impossibly green eyes that couldn't be described as anything else but pretty. Not that Sam would _ever_ say this out loud.

He looked up to see Dean's reflection smirking down at him. Sam blushed heavily and ducked his head quickly, embarrassed over getting caught staring.

"I know, what you're thinking about," Dean said.

"You do?" Sam asked, praying to God that Dean didn't.

"You want me to ask you to come," Dean continued. "Sorry buddy, it's a Senior and Junior's party only."

Sam let out a deep breath.

"Too bad, then," he said. Like he cared about any parties.

When Dean was finally satisfied with his _I just spent two hours trying to look like I don't care at all _hair, he grabbed his cell, wallet and keys and headed out of the door.

Sam sighed and shook his head. Well, this could have gone much worse, he figured. He fished out his toiletries from his bag and went to take a shower himself.

He was very surprised to find one shelf cleared off Dean's stuff. Sure, there were still two shelves, a sink and a shower covered in things that belonged to the senior, but it was still a nice gesture. Sam had to smile to himself. Maybe this whole thing started off badly, so it could improve in time.

He took a shower, brushed his teeth and lay back down on his bed to read for a bit. It was close to midnight, when his eyes started to close on their own will. He turned his bedside lamp off and closed his eyes. Dean was still gone, when sleep finally overtook him.

Sam's alarm clock went off at 7 AM. He turned it off and padded into the bathroom, careful not to wake Dean who was sleeping face down on his bed in the same clothes he wore, when he went out yesterday.

When he finished with the morning bathroom procedures, he walked back to his bags to find something decent to wear. He and the other freshmen were supposed to meet with the director, deputy and their counsellor in the University's main hall at 8:30. Sam was worried he might oversleep, so he set his alarm for a bit earlier.

"What the fuck are you doing awake?" he heard the muffled muttering from his roommate's bed.

Sam scowled. Dean was probably a light sleeper and definitely not a morning person. Waking him up definitively didn't help Sam score any points with him.

"It's my first day, don't wanna be late," he answered.

"It's _early_," Dean whined. "I swear, wake me up like this one more time, and I'll make your life a living hell," he promised.

The whole time he was talking, he never opened his eyes. Now, he just turned his head away and started snoring softly almost immediately.

Yeah, Senior definitely wasn't a morning person. He probably wouldn't even remember their conversation once he'd truly woken up, but Sam knew better than to take such threats lightly. He would be more careful and quiet next time.

The meeting went just as he expected. People who lived together in the dorm or had their rooms close to each other were already on their way to become friends. The pretty girls were flirting with the hot boys and the rest of the students was just yawning and looking generally annoyed. It felt too much like High school for Sam's liking, but at least nobody paid him any attention.

When they finished the tour around the Campus, they were handed out their timetables along with the list of required literature. The counsellor told Sam that since he had the full scholarship, he wasn't obligated to pay. She said it loud enough for the students around them to hear and Sam saw the _Nerd, Trash _and _Beggar _written all over their faces. He quickly looked down and didn't dare to look at either of his classmates.

The meeting was finally dismissed and everyone started to disappear into their rooms in small groups. Sam's room was the only one in a different building than everyone else's and he was the only one to leave alone, too. He wasn't sure if he was even bothered by it.

There was no sign of Dean, when he returned to the room. The clothes he went out and then slept in laid discarded on the bathroom floor and his unmade bed was covered in shirts and jeans again. This guy was such a girl when it came to getting dressed, Sam chuckled.

Carefully, he picked up Dean's clothes from the bathroom, and folded it on his pillow, again. He didn't even know why. He remembered that Dean told him not to touch his stuff, but he believed he'd be much happier this way, than have Sam step on his clothes while taking a piss.

He took a shower and sighed, when he went through his bag to find something to wear. He could really use his closet, but he didn't want to annoy Dean any more than necessary. Their peace was fragile enough as it was.

He glanced at his closet and was surprised to find it opened and – empty.

Slowly, he walked over and peeked inside. He blinked to be sure, but this wasn't a trick. Dean really cleared out his closet. Without Sam even asking for it.

Quickly, Sam unpacked what clothes and shoes he brought with him and put it in _his_ closet, so that Dean couldn't come back and change his mind. Even his desk was free of Dean's stuff. Maybe his roommate wasn't such an asshole after all.

-xXx-

Dean was really pissed at whoever decided it would be fun to put a freshman in his dorm room. He felt like it was a violation of his rights as a senior and also disrespectful to the memory of Ash, his previous roommate. Granted, the school probably didn't have a reason to honour his memory, since they were the ones who kicked him out, but still. It shouldn't be this easy to replace him. With a fucking freshman, no less.

He hated Sam the first second he saw him and he intended for it to stay that way, but when he saw the way the kid just took blame for every shit Dean threw at him and then sort of just _crumpled_ on himself, he felt bad about it. He decided to file a complaint and ask for a new room just for himself or something. He wrote Ash a complaining text too, but it was just like the bastard not to answer him.

His new roommate was strange. And that, coming from someone whose roommate used to be Ash, meant something. Sam never demanded things from Dean, like to clean after himself, to leave his stuff in his side of the room, to be quiet, when Sam was reading, nothing. And whenever Dean out of the goodness of his heart decided to give Sam some room that was supposed to be his anyway, all he got in return were quiet thanks and shy smiles. The guy hardly ever even met his eyes.

He actually reminded Dean of his own freshman self, when he was insecure, shy and nervous. But Dean was lucky to be put in one room together with Ash. Even though at first, it seemed more like a curse.

Ash was weird. Like super weird. So weird it would be crazy if it wasn't so awesome, as it turned out. He dragged Dean into the madness that was college life and Dean would never thank him enough. He missed his stupid jokes, gross food manners and the ever-present humming of his laptop. But Ash didn't even seem upset about being kicked out. He was more likely to become a person the journalists write about than a journalist himself. He had already had a job offer in some pc company, before he even packed his bags. And Dean was happy for him, but it still sucked. If it wasn't for Ash, Dean might have become just as awkward and anti-social as his current roommate.

But if he had to be perfectly honest with himself, he'd admit, that the thing that was pissing him off the most about this was that he didn't have an empty room where he could take the girls and occasional boys. He already bragged to his friends about how it was going to rock this year and now it was ruined.

Not like he suddenly stopped enjoying the wild life, but it really sucked to ask the _girls_ if their room was available. And not that many guys had a roommate happy with two men going at it in theirs. Gays and bisexuals had to be careful. When you were popular enough, people just didn't talk about it. If you weren't that popular, you just had to make sure that nobody _knew_.

He figured he'd give it a week or two until the kid came around and started hanging out and partying. Maybe they could take turns in taking the girls in. Or they could share. He was sure it had to suck to live in another building than all of his classmates, because looking at his books, the guy was definitely aspiring to be the next Perry Mason and lawyers were in the building next door. Posh, stock bunch of people, who thought they were better than the rest of them. One more reason not to like Sam.

A month went by and the freaking freshman didn't start going _anywhere_. Actually, it seemed more like he spent every freaking second that he wasn't in class sitting on his bed and either reading or studying.

It was driving Dean mad. After a month of quickies in the bathroom and sneaking around the dorm, he decided he'd had enough. When the last girl he had sex with laughed and asked him if he needed a room, he knew he had to do something before he turned into a public joke.

"Hey Sam," he said to his roommate, who was sitting on his bed and reading. "I'm heading out."

"Okay," Sam said without raising his eyes.

"And I'll be back later," he tried going for subtle.

"Okay?" the kid blinked at his reflection in the mirror.

"And I'm not going to be alone. The whole night," Dean sighed. Subtle obviously wasn't going to work.

"Okay," Sam nodded and returned his attention to his book.

"Okay?" Dean repeated incredulously and turned around. "That's all you have to say?"

His roommate jumped slightly at the tone of his voice.

"N-no, I-," he stuttered. "Have fun?"

It was almost a question, like he was trying to find out what Dean wanted from him and Dean would have felt sorry for him if he wasn't so damn mad at him.

He just rolled his eyes and slammed the door behind himself. He needed a drink and fast. His fucking idiot of a roommate was really getting on his nerves. It was some twisted game of fate that he, Dean Winchester of all people, had to end up with the biggest dork in the world. The kid better be gone, when he came back tonight.

It was a great party. Dean's head was pleasantly buzzing on the verge of drunkenness and he was ready to take the chick on his arm to his room. He leaned to her and whispered in her ear if she wanted to make the party a little more private.

She was already drunk, so she just giggled and nodded.

"Just let me say bye to my friends," he winked at her and joined his buddies Jim and Ben.

"There you are, Chester!" Jim slapped him on the back. "Haven't seen you all night, been stuck in the bathroom again?" he mocked.

"Shut up and look at the hottie by the door. Guess who's taking her home tonight?" Dean grinned.

"You sure your roommate won't mind?" Ben laughed, but eyed Dean's soon-to-be conquer with an obvious envy.

"Don't care no more," Dean shrugged. "I warned him. You better hook up too, I don't wanna be the only one bragging tomorrow...again." Dean dodged the punch in his shoulder Jim tried to give him and walked back to Melinda...Melissa...whatever her name was.

He took her hand and led her through the corridors, stopping only for occasional make out sessions. She was hot with her tanned skin, slim waist and long, dark hair that spilled over her shoulders. She might have had a bigger ass and a little too much make up on, but Dean wasn't _that_ picky. Besides, it wasn't like she was going to be there the morning after.

When they reached his door, she leaned in to kiss him and wrapped her arms around his lower back. Dean did the same and slid his hands down to give a squeeze her ass, barely covered in the tiny shorts she wore, just as he felt her hand go inside his back pocket and fish out the key to his room.

"Oops," she blinked up at him innocently with her chestnut-like eyes as she let the key fall inside her cleavage.

Dean grinned at her mischievously, before he dipped his head down. She was playful. He liked games.

He nuzzled her neck, while he snuck his hands under her top to feel the soft, smooth skin under it. Then he lowered his head even lower, pushing his nose between her breasts, only to straighten back up victoriously, holding the key by its chain between his teeth.

"Treasure hunter," she giggled.

Dean unlocked the door to the dark room, then he pulled Mathylda...Marica...or something close and rolled his hips into hers.

"And the most precious treasure I found, is you," he whispered into her ear. Girls seemed to like hearing stuff like that.

She blushed and Dean had to admit, it made her even more attractive. He walked backwards through the door, pulling her with him. He felt for the switch and turned the lights on.

All the colour from her face was suddenly gone and she grasped his arm almost painfully.

"There-there's someone in the bed,'" she pointed with a shaky finger in the direction her eyes were looking.

Dean looked the way and sure enough, there was Sam, sleeping peacefully in his bed. Anger boiled inside Dean and it was all he could do not to wake his roommate up with a punch in the face.

What the fuck was Sam's problem, anyway? Dean had told him he was going to have a company over. Hell, the kid even seemed to understand it. Was a little time and space for Dean's social life too much to ask? After all, he went out of his way to give the guy as much room as he could need.

But if Sam wanted to be an asshole, then so would Dean.

"That's my roommate," he grinned at Melanie, or was it Mandy? "He's a little kinky," he whispered, as though he was sharing a secret."He likes to listen. Don't pay him any attention, he won't bother us."

She pursed her lips as she was contemplating the idea and Dean prayed that she was drunk enough to go for it.

"Okay," she said finally. "But turn off the lights. I don't want him to watch."

"Sure thing, baby," Dean let out an audible breath and switched the lights back off.

He pulled the girl closer and pressed her against the wall, sneaking his hands under her top, feeling the smooth, flat belly.

They lost most of their clothes on their way to the bed and fell down on it only in their underwear.

She crawled on the top of him and trailed teasingly light kisses down his throat. Dean was suddenly irritated by the teasing, even though just moments ago he was looking forward to it. But Sam's presence just ruined the mood for him.

He ran his hands up the girl's sides and stopped on her back to unhook her bra. No, he won't let some freshman spoil this for him. No way.

He threw Monica's bra away and drew her head down to kiss her mouth, exploring it with his tongue, while playing with her breasts. He preferred dick to vagina to be honest, but he loved boobs. If he were a girl, he'd never stop touching them.

She did a thing with her teeth, when she scraped them along his tongue gently, before letting go of his mouth and it sent shivers down Dean's spine. He quickly sucked one of her nipples in his mouth to prevent himself from moaning, because that would have been embarrassing.

She moaned loudly as he lavished one of her nipples with his tongue, while using his fingers on the other. She pressed her ass down on Dean's groin, causing him to groan.

"Okay," she laughed softly. "I'm in the bed with the mighty Dean Winchester," she said as she hooked her fingers under the waistband of Dean's boxers. "Let's see what the fuss is all about."

She pulled his boxers down and hummed appraisingly.

"Mighty enough for you?" Dean raised his eyebrow.

She licked along his shaft, causing it to harden and swell even more. Dean's hips tried to buck upward, but her weight was enough to keep him grounded.

"Jesus, Mary," Dean threw his head back.

"Mariah," she corrected him, but she didn't sound overly concerned.

"Yeah, right, sorry," Dean grinned sheepishly.

"Do you think," she murmured against his skin as she left a wet trail on her way up his stomach, "that we could skip the blowjob?" She was lying atop him now and he let his hands roam around her body freely as he angled his head to suck on her neck. "Can't you tell how hot and wet I am for you?" She whined, took one of his hands and guided it down to her crotch. Dean felt her through her panties. They were soaked.

Dean kissed her fiercely, trying to focus solely on the kiss, because his cock was really aching now.

"I can't wait to ride the mighty dick of yours," Mariah whispered against his mouth, when they broke off and he had to bite on his bottom lip, hard. She was _good_.

"There's a condom in my nightstand," he panted.

She reached for it, pulled it on Dean's cock and guided him inside her. She moaned loudly at the feeling, and then she grinned sort of impishly, right before she started to ride him.

Dean kept bucking his hips up to meet her halfway, sliding in and out of her tight wetness, feeling the orgasm build in his gut.

She was screaming his name on the top of her lungs as she neared her own orgasm and Dean was groaning with pleasure. At one point, he looked to the other bed. Sam didn't seem to move an inch. Dean was positive that what he and Mariah were doing would have woken up a Sleeping beauty, let alone a stupid freshman. So maybe he wasn't all that wrong about his kink.

He didn't have much time to process that train of thoughts though, because his body arched off the bed as he came, shooting his load to the condom inside the girl that was riding him. He tried not to dwell too much on the fact, that he'd just came thinking of a certain tall and shaggy haired guy.

She kept her pace, milking him off and chasing her own orgasm. When she finally came with a scream so loud, it actually made Dean's ears ring, she stood up, rolled the condom off Dean and asked him, where the trash bin was.

"You can throw it away in the bathroom. Under the sink," Dean said and yawned.

"You mind if I take a shower too?" she asked him.

"Sure, go ahead."

As he heard the shower start running, he thought about the night. Mariah was definitely a good lay; he just hoped she wouldn't get too clingy. God knew he'd had enough of those. He didn't like being a heartbreaker. That was, why he always chose to sleep only with the people that figured that it would be just a one-night-stand for Dean.

He made sure with Mariah too, but then again, she was drunk.

By the time the shower stopped running, he was drifting to sleep.

"Hey," Mariah shook his shoulder a little. "I'm going."

"Mmkay."

"Just wanted to say thanks for the night. Maybe we can repeat it sometime? There are a lot of parties, I'm sure we'll meet at one."

"Sure," Dean smiled at her when she bent down to kiss his cheek. He was _definitely_ hooking up with this girl again.

"Maybe next time, you'll do all the work," she grinned.

Scratch that, he was never going to see her again.

She tossed a wink over her shoulder and then she was gone. Dean rolled on his side, contemplating calling Sam on his act, but before he made up his mind, he was asleep.

-xXx-

Things were going fine, or so Sam thought. After the first night Dean brought a girl back to their room, he was worried things might get a little awkward, but his roommate seemed to buy his faked sleeping. The only downside of this for Sam was that now he had to deal with Dean bringing girls over at least three nights a week.

But really, what was he supposed to do? Go out? Where? He didn't know anyone in this building and honestly, he didn't really know his classmates either. He wasn't invited to any parties, hell, he didn't even have friends. The only time people actually talked to him was when there was a group assignment involved. Then he would suddenly become everyone's best friend, because they all expected him to do most if not all the work. And he always did, because he didn't need any more people hating him.

It was bad enough that Gary Huffman, the rich and spoiled son of a famous law-office director, decided that he didn't like Sam and felt obligated to let him know all the time.

"Watch your step, Campbell," Gary laughed as he shoved Sam out of his way, causing him to drop everything he'd been carrying.

From his high-school experience, Sam knew that it was best to just not say anything, gather his things and get out of Gary's sight as fast as possible. At least Gary and his loyal companions were the only ones giving him a hard time, the rest of the students didn't seem to care. And if that was something positive for him, it only showed how miserable Sam's life was.

He made his way to the classroom, where his next class was and sat down to the front row.

"Put the papers that were due today on my desk, please," said the professor, when the class started.

There were some sounds of protest and a few horrified gasps "Was it really due _today_?" Sam was going through the pile of things he'd been carrying earlier, because the homework was there, somewhere. Except it wasn't. He went through his backpack, too, but he couldn't find it anywhere.

So he had to add his name to the list of people, who claimed to have forgotten their papers in their room.

Professor Green just shook his head and let out a disappointed sigh. Sam ducked his head down and felt his ears burn with shame. It didn't help that Gary and his stupid friends were pointing at him and laughing.

Everyone was given the chance to deliver their papers until 5 PM to professor Green's office. Sam all but ran to his dorm room, partly to find his paper and partly to escape Gary's wannabe funny comments.

He was already used to finding his room empty, no matter the time he walked in. He had no idea of his roommate's schedule, but he was sure that even if he didn't have class, he'd be probably spending his time with his friends. Because unlike Sam, everyone had friends. And Dean had more than plenty. Not that Sam was jealous, not at all. No, he wasn't. Okay, maybe a little. So what.

The only logical place for his homework to be was his desk. But when he didn't find it there, Sam searched everywhere. Twice, for good measure. There was only one good explanation. Gary fucking Huffman.

Sam's fists clenched at his sides and he forced back the tears of the unfairness of this situation back. He must have lost the paper, when Gary made him drop his things. Or maybe Gary even took it himself.

He sat dejectedly down and put a blank sheet of paper on his desk. He had about three hours to re-do the paper he spent two good evenings working on. He sighed and looked over to his roommate's bed. At times like these, he wished that Dean were his friend. Nobody would dare to push Dean Winchester's friend around.

Right at that moment their phone beeped. It was connected to the other rooms and to the administrator of the dorm rooms. Sam never had a reason to use it and neither did he see Dean using it, but before he decided whether to pick up or not, it had already gone into voicemail.

"Dear Mr. Winchester, this is the administrator's office. We have to deny your request to be moved into a different room. There are no rooms available at this moment. Have a nice day," and with a final beep the message ended.

Sam just stared at the phone. He frantically searched his mind to find what had he done so wrong, that Dean couldn't stand it to be in one room with him anymore. Apparently, Sam was some kind of a human repellent that chased everyone away. There was no other explanation since he hadn't done anything to offend his senior roommate, not that he could remember at least.

He heard the door open and almost kicked the chair down as he jumped at the sound. He raised his eyes to meet Dean's and his roommate smiled at him.

"Hey, I didn't think you'd be here," he sounded honestly surprised.

"Well, it's my room too, you know," Sam hissed through gritted teeth and bowed his head down again.

"Yeah, how could I forget that," Dean sighed.

Sam was so pissed and hurt at the same time that he was sure he'd start crying if he didn't get out in like five seconds.

"You've got a message," he muttered, grabbed his notepad and pencil case and brushed past Dean. He'd do the homework in the library.

-xXx-

When the class was finally over, Dean stood up, stretched his back and yawned. His back popped as his spine went back to its place. He gathered his bag and started moving toward his room.

"Hey, Chester!" he heard Jim yelling at him, so he turned around to see his friend with some chick Dean had never seen before. At least he hoped he hadn't. That would have been awkward. "Don't forget about the party tonight! It's going to be huge!"

"I'll be there," Dean waved his friend off tiredly.

According to Jim, _every_ party was huge and couldn't be missed. Dean wasn't one to stay at home, when he didn't have to, but it was going to be third night in a row without much or even any sleep and it started to wear him out. So he decided to skip his last class, the professor only talked about The Times anyway, and take a nice nap, before going to the party.

As he neared his door, he thought of Sam. He wasn't sure if he wanted the kid to be there right now. Even though Dean planned to sleep, he didn't like the silence that was between them, whenever they both ended up in the room together. Those times were, when he missed Ash the most.

At first, he was pissed at the freshman for staying in the room, even though Dean had made it clear he wanted the room for himself (and the girls of course). But the more it happened, the less angry Dean was and the more he pitied the kid. Nobody in their right mind would put up with such crap from their roommate if they had a choice. They would either tell them to bring their girls elsewhere and fight about it, or they would start going out. Sam did neither.

Dean started to think that maybe the kid never went out simply because he didn't have anywhere to go. Or anyone to go with. And as much as Dean despised to be anyone's babysitter, Sam was still his roommate and maybe Dean could help him out instead of ignoring him.

But that could wait until tomorrow. Right now, Dean needed his beauty sleep and Sam was probably in class anyway.

He wasn't all that surprised to find Sam in their room, when he opened the door, though. What did surprise him was how the kid almost jumped out of his skin, when he heard him coming.

"Hey, I didn't think you'd be here," Dean said instead of greeting, so he smiled to make it sound friendlier.

"Well, it's my room too, you know," the kid said with his head bowed down again and Dean felt like a complete asshole.

"Yeah, how could I forget that," he sighed.

"You've got a message," Sam muttered and then he was gone. Dean could have sworn he'd seen tears in his eyes.

Dean blinked a few times and then noticed the red blinking control on the room's phone. When he listened to the message, he understood what had upset his roommate so much and if possible, he felt even worse.

He completely forgot he'd ever asked for a different room, it must have been like a month ago, when he'd just found that he had a roommate. Fuck the administrator for just answering now, anyway.

Well, when Sam came back, he would explain to him that it was never about him, Dean thought as he plopped down on his bed. Even as sleep pulled him under, he was thinking about the miserable look on his roommate's face, right before he took off.

He was still blissfully sleeping, when he heard rough voices yelling, "Wake up, Dean!" and "You fucking moron, you're sleeping!"

Very carefully, he opened one eye to see Ben's face right in front of his.

"He's alive!" Ben yelled a little too loudly.

"What are you fuckers doing in my room?" he asked his friends, when he noticed a bunch of them standing around his bed.

"The party, dude?" Jim looked at him as though he was completely retarded. "If we hadn't come to rescue you, sleeping beauty, you'd sleep right through it."

"Well maybe I wanted to sleep," Dean huffed, but got out of his bed anyway.

"You can sleep when you're dead," Jim retorted.

As quickly as possible, Dean changed into something not sleep-crumpled and kicked his friends out before following them suit. He noticed that it was almost 9 PM and Sam wasn't back yet.

Even when he came back a later that night, alone because he didn't feel like hooking up, Sam's bed was still empty.


	2. Chapter 2

**Thanks everyone for the lovely reviews :* Here's the new chapter, hopefully it won't disappoint you ;) And again, thank you ****FallenAngel2487 for your support and co-operation :) **

* * *

**Chapter 2**

It was late, when Sam finally slipped through the door to his room quietly. He couldn't remember ever staying out this late. It wasn't even his first intention. When he'd finally finished with the homework and delivered it to Professor Green, he walked around the campus and sat down in a coffee shop to read until it was dark outside. But when he came back, hoping that Dean would be already gone to some party, he saw a bunch of guys – Dean's friends probably – entering their room, so he changed his direction.

At first, he was angry at Dean, his friends, this whole situation, so he decided that if they couldn't get to a party, he definitely would. He couldn't stomach the thought of going in the room and them laughing at him for being a nerd. He even took it so far that he was standing in front of a room where a party was held, but before he could talk himself into knocking, he'd heard Gary's voice from inside and he ran. Literally ran. He found a bench, sat and cried a little. He was a lost cause, wherever he'd go, he wouldn't be welcome there. By that time there was no one on the street, and even if there was, Sam was sure they wouldn't be interested in helping him.

He was seriously considering spending the night outside, but the night grew colder and he started to shiver. He went back to his room one last time, hoping that Dean and his friends were gone, but even if they weren't, dealing with them seemed more pleasant than freezing to death.

He opened the door carefully, not really surprised to find it dark and quiet. What _did _surprise him, though, was that it wasn't empty. His roommate was lying and sleeping peacefully in his bed, and judging by the state the room was in, he hadn't even had a girl over. Sam would know; he'd been there when he had. He had to admit that it was nice though, not to have to wait for Dean's girl of the night to leave the room to get some sleep.

He picked his pyjamas off his bed and as quietly as possible padded to the bathroom.

"Sam?" Dean raised his head and Sam scowled. He forgot that Dean was often a light sleeper and he definitely didn't want to face his roommate just yet. "You just came back?" Then his eyes fell at the clock on his nightstand. "It's _late_," he said and it sounded almost like an accusation. "Where have you been?"

"None of your business," Sam hissed and grit his teeth to stop them from clattering. He was _really_ cold. What was the guy's deal anyway? Sam stayed in the room; Dean was pissed. Sam went out; Dean had a problem with that, too. He hoped the senior would just go back to sleep and let Sam have a hot shower in peace.

"I know, sorry," the older boy mumbled and Sam was so taken aback that by that, he had to stop and look at him. The senior was looking down and playing with his blanket. "I was just worried," he added quietly.

Sam blinked.

"Worried? About me?" He was sure he was misunderstanding this, or Dean was still asleep and didn't even know whom was he talking to.

"Yeah, you're never out this late. I fell asleep, otherwise I would have – you're shaking!" Again, almost an accusation.

"It's cold outside," Sam said. His brain wasn't really processing what was just happening. "I wanted to take a shower if that's okay?"

"It's my fault, right?" Dean looked up at him with his bottom lip between his teeth. "Look, about the voicemail-,"

"I don't wanna talk about it," Sam interrupted him and closed the bathroom door behind himself.

He heard Dean calling after him, but he ignored it. He certainly wasn't up for a discussion about what made him such a crappy roommate and why Dean wanted to get away from him. Or that Dean felt guilty about it and that made him fake the caring.

He took a hot shower that warmed him up nicely and if it lasted a little longer than usual, it was because Sam had been freezing. Then he brushed his teeth, took a deep breath and walked out.

Dean was still sitting on his bed and Sam expected him to start talking about the voicemail again. When he didn't, Sam took a closer look. Dean was propped up against a wall, his eyes were shut and his lips parted as he was breathing evenly.

Sam forgot about his annoyance when the moonlight washed over his sleeping roommate's face and he noticed the dark circles under his eyes. If he was this tired, Sam almost felt bad about waking him up in the first place.

He walked up to him and pushed him down gently but firmly, hushing him softly when Dean started stirring. He didn't wake up this time, though and Sam was glad. Without Dean awake to remind him of the voicemail, he could pretend they were getting along just fine.

He tucked Dean's comforter under his chin and felt a strange urge to run his fingers through Dean's short light hair, so he pulled away before it could overcome him. He shook his head to get rid of the weird sensation settling down in his stomach and laid down on his own bed. At first, he was afraid he wouldn't be able to sleep, but eventually the darkness pulled him under.

* * *

It started out innocent, really. Professor Darwell asked the class a question, Gary answered and she shook her head no. So Sam raised his hand and corrected Gary's answer and the professor smiled, said he was very bright and continued with her lecture.

Gary's eyes narrowed with hatred, but that was something Sam was fairly used to. So it really surprised him, when he was walking between classrooms one second and then the next he was on the ground. He fell face down and to protect his head he stuck his hands out and one of his fists hit him in his right eye. It hurt like a bitch. Sam just gave himself a black eye and he was sure he was the first person to ever accomplish that.

"Are you alright, Sam?" Gary hovered above him with a fake-concerned voice. "It must suck to be as tall as you are and still trip over yourself," his mouth twisted in something very close to disgust and his faithful crew laughed at the joke.

Sam felt his cheeks burn red and when Gary bent down to him, he tried to back away, but Huffman's hand gripped his arm painfully hard.

"On the other hand, maybe it will teach you to keep your fucking mouth shut," he hissed. "No one cares that you've memorized all the books. It's gonna be no good to a nobody like you."

He stepped over him, making a point of stepping on Sam's books and walked away, followed by his friends who were still laughing at Sam's expense.

Sam looked around. The shame was burning inside him and he was more relieved than sad that nobody seemed to notice this little episode. But he was a little sad, too.

He picked up his things and dragged himself into the lecture room for his last class. With his head bowed, he slid down into a seat as far away from Gary and his companions as possible.

He really tried to focus on the lesson, but it was hard. His eye hurt whenever he blinked and he was sure that there was a bruise forming on his upper arm.

"Does anyone know why Mr. Smith would be found non-guilty of all charges, even though all the evidence clearly said otherwise?" the professor asked.

Everybody was quiet. Sam guessed it had something to do with the method the police got their evidence, but he wasn't sure.

"Really, nobody? Not even you, Samuel?" he looked at him expectantly.

Sam almost suffocated with the weight of everyone's stares. He was sure Gary was watching him too, even though he didn't dare to check that.

"I'm sorry, sir," he mumbled apologetically and shook his head.

The professor looked very disappointed. Sam slumped as far into his chair as it was possible with the way his body was built. His hair fell down into his eyes and only then did he dare to peer at Gary from under them. The stupid brat was smirking at his friends and getting a high five.

When the class was finally dismissed, he rushed out, because he'd had his share of dealing with Gary for today and he just wanted a bit of peace and quiet in the safety of his room.

The star constellation must have been terrible for Sam today, because when he opened the door, Dean was in the room. Okay, it was _his_ room as well, but around this time he was usually either already gone or not back yet and Sam just assumed that would be the case today too. But not only was Dean here, he was also on the phone. And apparently, talking about him.

"Yeah, a fucking freshman, would you believe that?" Dean said exasperated and waved his free arm in the air to empathize his point. "And here I thought it couldn't get worse than you."

For a few seconds, Sam seriously considered backing out and running away. Dean hadn't noticed him yet, he wouldn't know. The thing was he had nowhere to go. Nowhere safe from Gary, at least. So he'd decided to suck it up and very quietly, he tiptoed to his bed.

"He's always in the room," Dean whined, his back still turned on Sam. "I mean, always. He doesn't go out or do anything, except for studying his ass off. I bet the guy doesn't even have friends."

Tears prickled in Sam's eyes and he wrapped his arms around his knees, looking straight ahead of him, but not really seeing anything.

"You know what the worst part is? He's here all the time and by that I mean _all_ of it. Even when I bring girls over. How sick is that?"

Sam's fingers curled into fists and he begged his own tears not to fall. Right now, he wished more than anything that he was invisible. It would be so much easier; besides, he was mostly already treated as such.

"No, I didn't. I don't think I want to know his reaction to that. He'd probably just stay and listen anyway."

Sam squeezed his eyes shut and put his head on his knees. He wished the floor would open and swallow him whole. There was a surprised gasp and then Dean stuttered.

"H-holy shit! He's here. This is creepy. Look, I'm gonna have to call you back...yeah, alright. Was good to hear you too. Bye, Ash." And then there was a click as Dean snapped his cell phone shut.

"Sam?" he asked and the said heard steps heading toward him.

He took a deep breath and braced himself. There was no point in stopping the tears now; it didn't matter anyway. Dean was probably going to yell at him for listening to his call. Or laugh at him for being this pathetic. Their peace, however delicate, was over now, that was for sure. Sam would probably start coming to his room to find his things scattered all over the room, ruined or even missing. Maybe his roommate would invite friends over and laugh at him falling for their pranks.

This wasn't fair! He'd never hurt anyone or did anything to deserve this. Or high school. And this was _just_ like high school and Sam had no idea why.

And the worst part was he would have to put up with anything Dean would throw his way, because he had nowhere to run. Because _out there_, that was Gary's field and who knew? Maybe they'd team up and torture the hell out of Sam until he dropped out of school or killed himself or-

"Are you alright?" he heard Dean's soft voice above his head.

Sam froze. He wasn't even breathing. He wanted Dean to just leave him _alone_. Nothing more, nothing less.

"Sorry, stupid question," the older boy chuckled above him nervously. His voice was much nearer Sam's ear than before. "I'm really sorry about the phone call, I didn't- Hey, would you look at me? This feels really weird."

Very slowly, Sam raised his head and turned it to face his roommate. He knew there were tears and probably snot all over his face. He wasn't sure what he was expecting Dean to do, but seeing the surprise, then worry and then guilt flicker across his face wasn't it.

"Oh god, did I do this to you? Come here," there were arms on his back, pushing him into Dean's chest. He was too stunned to fight or reciprocate the hug. "I'm really sorry, Sam. What I said about you, it wasn't nice," Dean said quietly. Sam's arms sneaked around Dean's form and tightened on their own accord.

He held onto Dean and tried to understand what was happening. Maybe he fell asleep at some point and was dreaming this? When they finally pulled away, he wanted to ask Dean to explain him what on earth had just happened, but the other boy beat him to it.

"Who gave you this?" he frowned, looking at Sam's eye. Or rather the bruise surrounding it.

He put a hand on Sam's cheek and wiped away his tears with his thumb tenderly. Sam blinked up at him and felt a blush creep up his neck. Didn't Dean know this wasn't how two guys were supposed to touch each other?

"That's actually really stupid, because I gave it to myself," Sam choked out a laugh, but Dean didn't even smile.

Instead, he noticed the bruise on Sam's arm. He pierced Sam with a serious look without letting go of his face.

"Sam, are you being bullied?"

Sam averted his eyes. He wasn't sure if it wasn't too late, but he didn't want Dean to add 'loser' to the list of things he already thought of him.

"It's nothing, really, I just-"

"Sam," Dean stopped him with what could be only described as a mommy-voice.

Sam closed his mouth and bore his gaze into Dean's. The impossibly green eyes stared back at him expectantly. He searched them for any sign of cruelty or menace, but couldn't find any. He allowed himself to believe that maybe this was really happening and the wave of relief that washed over him made his head a little dizzy.

"What do I do wrong?" he asked and blinked at the words. They weren't what he meant to say at all.

"What do you mean?" Dean's brow furrowed in confusion.

"I can't make friends. No one ever likes me. What makes me so repulsive?" Sam kept looking at his roommate, as though the other boy had all the answers. "Why do you hate me so much?"

"I don't," Dean said a little too quickly for it to be entirely the truth. Sam smiled sadly and looked down. "I really don't," the senior used the hand he still had on Sam's face to force him to look at him again. "I didn't like you simply because you were in my room and I wanted it all to myself. It wasn't about you."

"And now it is?" Sam asked. There wasn't bitterness or hurt in his voice. He just wanted to know.

"Now I think I was an arrogant, stupid bastard and I'm sorry for that. Forgive me?" Dean gave him a small smile.

Sam thought it was a rhetorical question, but Dean was patiently waiting for an answer.

"You didn't do anything wrong. There's nothing to forgive," the younger boy shrugged.

"Right," Dean sighed. "But I'd still like to make it up to you. So, the next time anyone tries to bother you, you find me, okay? If it's lunch time, or here in our room, hell, even if it was in front of my classroom, I'll always have your back, okay?"

Sam's eyes widened and he had to go over it one more time in his head to make sure he got it right.

"Give me your cell," Dean sighed again and Sam blushed a little. He didn't want Dean to think of him as stupid on top of everything else. He handed his phone over with slightly shaking hands. Dean pressed some buttons and gave it back to him. Sam missed his hand on his cheek the instant it was gone. "That's my number. If you need my help, you just call me."

"B-but," Sam resisted the urge to pinch himself. This couldn't be real. "Why?"

"Because someone gave you a black eye, you came here crying and I was an ass. I feel bad about it. You're a nice kid, Sam. You should be treated as such."

Sam was so perplexed he didn't even correct Dean. His roommate seemed very convinced of his words. Or maybe he was just that convinc_ing_. But Sam was more than willing to take whatever he was offering. It was more than anyone else had offered him in...well...ever.

Dean smiled at him and patted his knee as he stood up. He didn't say anything more, but Sam felt the change. It was refreshing. Maybe the universe didn't hate him after all.

-xXx-

Dean was sitting on his bed with headphones in his ears and he was reading a textbook on the importance of source protection. The exam time wasn't near, but there weren't nearly as many parties as at the beginning of the year. Plus he needed to pass his exams if he wanted to graduate and Legal journalism was one of the hardest subjects.

Sam was on his bed with his own textbook spread over his chest, napping. Dean imagined the kid didn't get much sleep last night. He had a girl over and things lasted...a little longer than usual, to say the least.

He took a better look at Sam's face. The black eye had darkened and Dean remembered how low he felt, when he'd seen Sam's face soaked in tears. He wished he'd never said those things about him to Ash. It was just exaggerated complaining anyway. But the kid had been absolutely wrecked and resigned to take whatever Dean was going to do to him. He'd probably thought Dean would start bullying him too; it wasn't like he had given the freshman a reason to think otherwise.

Dean found himself really wanting to be there the next time somebody was trying to pick on his roommate. There was something about the younger boy that made him feel protective. Or maybe possessive, since he was _Dean's_ roommate, so technically _his_ to pick on, but no one else's. Plus he really wanted to earn Sam's trust and show him that there was more to Dean Winchester than a man-whore and a jerk.

He wondered what the kid would do if he'd told him he was bi and that he wanted to bring over a guy from time to time. For a second he contemplated the chances of Sam being into guys as well, but there was no point really, because Dean had never seen the kid talk to _anyone_, male or female.

He was pretty engrossed in his thoughts - instead of the textbook he was supposed to be reading - so he didn't notice Sam's stirring or opening his eyes.

"What is it?" he asked in a sleep-croaked voice. Dean blinked and returned into reality.

"What?"

"You're staring," Sam narrowed his eyes at him.

"Well, you listen to me having sex, so I guess that makes us even?" Dean smirked.

Sam blushed and looked away sheepishly.

"I'm really sorry about that. It's just...I have nowhere else to go at night and I thought you really believed that I was asleep. I can start leaving now if you want."

"No, man. It's cool, really," Dean shrugged. Sam raised his eyebrow questioningly. "I don't have to give up my sex life; you get to sleep in your bed. I think it's fair," Dean added.

Sam kept his gaze downwards and fidgeted with his sheets. Okay, maybe it wasn't _really_ fair. But it was the best Dean could offer.

Eventually, they went back to their textbooks, but Dean couldn't help the way his eyes darted toward the other bed. There was _something_ about Sam's naivety, innocence and shyness, but Dean couldn't figure out what it was. At first, he thought it was what made him this awkward, but now that he'd given Sam a chance, he just couldn't place it.

He was rescued from his thoughts by the ringing of his cell phone. It was Jim telling him that he and Ben were going out for dinner and commanding him to join them. Jim never really asked. But then again, Dean didn't ask either and he loved the friendship they had.

He got up and told Sam where he was going. The freshman gave him a sad smile and told him to enjoy his dinner. For a briefest moment, Dean stood in the bathroom door and considered asking Sam to join them. But then he decided against it, because it might get too awkward. There was a huge difference between offering a hand with bullies and actually becoming someone's friend. He would have to introduce him to his friends and Dean didn't need someone like Sam as friend in his life anyway. He decided to talk to Jim and Ben about this.

He left the room thinking that maybe there wasn't much more to Dean Winchester than a man-whore and a complete asshole after all.

-xXx-

Sam had the chance to test Dean's word shortly after the weekend ended, right on Monday morning. He was just getting a coffee in their cafeteria, minding his own business, when he'd noticed Gary and his friends across the hall. He ducked his head and quickly ordered, hoping they wouldn't notice him. But he just wasn't that lucky. One of Gary's mates nodded in Sam's direction and they all started walking toward him. Sam pretended not to notice them and as fast as he could, he started walking the other way. The coffee was hot in his hand and he didn't want to know what would happen to it if they caught up to him.

He was heading back to his room, but when he passed a student's lounge, he recognized a familiar figure. Dean was in the lounge, surrounded by his friends and they were all laughing. He stopped and thought about his options.

He could either try to get back into his room and risk that he might not make it and then face the humiliation by Huffman, or he could work up the courage to join Dean at his table. He was stuck between a rock and a hard place here. But with Dean, there was the slightest chance that maybe he wouldn't be a dick to Sam. Even though Sam was convinced that the senior didn't mean to acknowledge his roommate in front of so many of his friends, when he'd said he'd help him.

He heard Gary around the corner, so he closed his eyes, took a deep breath and walked in. The closer he got to the table where Dean was sitting, the more his steps faltered. Exactly the moment Gary and his friends entered the lounge, Dean turned his head and his eyes widened in surprise, when they fell upon Sam.

Sam didn't have the luxury to stop and search Dean's face to figure out whether it was a pleasant surprise or not. He begged the older guy with his eyes to understand and help him.

Oddly enough, Dean seemed to do exactly that. He glanced somewhere behind Sam's shoulder and his face darkened with anger.

"Hey Sam!" he called and waved him over.

All Dean's friends turned around and stared at him. Sam looked at the ground and felt his ears burn with embarrassment under the scrutiny, but he made his way over to them. He noticed his followers backed out of the lounge.

"Everyone, this is Sam. My roommate," Dean introduced him to his friends.

"Oh, finally we're getting to meet you!" a guy slightly shorter than Dean, with short dark hair and soft brown eyes smiled at him and stuck out his hand. "I'm Jim," he beamed at Sam.

"Sam," he shook the offered hand, a little thrown off. If he hadn't expected something, it was a warm welcome.

He got introduced to Ben, Matt, Tess, Julie and a few others, whose names he had no chance to remember. It was not like he was going to see them again anytime soon.

All of them actually seemed pretty curious about him. Sam would be content just sitting by the table long enough for Gary's group to give up and leave and then disappear to leave this bunch of journalist-seniors alone.

But Dean would have none of it. He included Sam in the conversation and it seemed as though he hadn't told them only the worst about him. Sam was grateful for that. They asked him about his classes, professors, all kinds of stuff and they all seemed genuinely interested. Sam felt a little like some exchange student from an exotic country, but he had to admit the attention was nice.

"Politics! You must have politics, right?" Julie asked, her eyes sparkling when Sam nodded.

"Yeah, Elephant teaches that one," Sam answered. They all seemed confused and Sam realized he didn't know his professor's real name anymore.

"What, Elephant?" Jim laughed. "Is that what the kids call him nowadays? Are we talking a short, fat guy, who thinks the USA government is a lie and Obama is an alien?"

Sam actually laughed at that. Elephant was a mean son of a bitch; he deserved the insults. He was the reason why Sam had to have perfect A's in all his other subjects, so that he wouldn't lose his scholarship.

"Yep, that would be him," he agreed.

"No way," Dean slapped his thighs and started laughing too. "Our Hippo is your Elephant?"

Everybody burst in laughter and Sam's cheeks were hurting from grinning so widely. There was a bunch of cool, older students, who were laughing _with _him and not _at_ him.

"Hey," Jim gave Dean's shoulder a friendly punch. "Your roommate is kinda cool. For a lawyer, I mean."

Sam's eyes flicked to Dean. He blushed, when the older boy just grinned and nodded.

"Maybe you could do our Legal homework," Ben added.

Sam blinked. If doing their homework was his payment for them being nice to him, then yeah, he could do it.

He opened his mouth to say yes, but Dean's hand on his shoulder stopped him.

"Hey, it's my roommate, so the only homework he'll do is mine. Go find your own," he told Ben off and squeezed Sam's shoulder as though he knew exactly, what he'd been thinking.

"That's not fair," Ben whined. "Why do you always get the smart roommates and I'm stuck with this moron?"

"Fuck you, too, Harley," Jim pretended to be offended.

"Guys, I don't really want to ruin this moment, but...," Tess said and pointed at a big clock on the lounge's wall.

"Oh, crap," Matt gruffed. "Class."

Sam had no idea how he did it, but Dean managed to convince everyone to take the longer route to their class, so they pretty much walked Sam to his lecture hall. Then everybody said goodbye to him, the girls hugged him and the guys slapped his back. Sam secretly pinched himself, because it seemed surreal.

"Hey, Dean," he called after his roommate, before he disappeared behind the corner. "Thanks."

"Don't mention it," Dean winked and then he was gone.

Sam readjusted his bag on his shoulder and went to the class, before it was too late.

* * *

He should have known Gary wouldn't just let him off the hook that easily. He should have, but he was too busy daydreaming about this morning to notice a group of his classmates surrounding his lunch table until it was too late.

"Campbell," Gary spit his name out like it was poison. "You done running?"

The bite of his sandwich Sam was just about to swallow got stuck in his throat. He was well and truly trapped with nowhere to run to. The more desperate he felt, the more pleased Gary seemed to be. He sat down across him and opened his mouth to speak, when a familiar voice yelled Sam's name and Dean plopped down on the seat next to him.

"There you are man, I've been looking for you," Dean slapped his back playfully and grabbed Sam's apple without asking. Not that Sam cared; he just stared at Dean with wide eyes. He could see Gary and his companions do the same.

"H-hi," Sam cleared his throat. "What's up?" He was the king of lameness, but if anything, Dean only smiled that much warmer at him.

"I just got off the phone with Hank. You know, Deacon," the senior continued, as though Sam had any idea what he was talking about.

Who the hell was Hank Deacon? But he heard a few girls that gathered around them gasp, so he didn't let on that he'd just heard the name for the first time.

"The party tomorrow? You remember, right?" Dean looked at him pointedly and all Sam could do was nod. "He said he doesn't like lawyers, sorry," Dean grimaced.

Sam blinked. He still had no idea what Dean was talking about. A party? Hank? Doesn't like lawyers? What?

"I mean, not you obviously," Dean went on, completely oblivious to Sam's confusion. "He likes you. But you can't take your friends with you," then he turned to Sam's classmates, who were now openly staring and shrugged apologetically. "Sorry folks, maybe next time." Then he returned his attention to Sam and patted his shoulder before getting up. "See ya later."

Sam's brain wasn't processing things fast enough to answer him. As soon as Dean was two steps from the table, one of the girls dropped at the seat next to Sam.

"Was that Dean Winchester?" she asked and opened her mouth in shock, when Sam nodded. "How do you know him?"

"He's my roommate," Sam shrugged.

"You're living in a room with _Dean Winchester_?" another girl squealed. "And you're going to Hank Deacon's party? Wow, Sam, you're so cool!" she sat down on the other side of him.

Gary retreated when everyone – including his faithful followers - started shouting questions at Sam and Sam looked up just in time to see Dean grinning at him, as though he knew exactly that this would happen. It wasn't even that hard to imagine the shining armour on him. He'd saved Sam once again.


	3. Chapter 3

**-Hello, my fellow readers. Your continuous support is amazing and I wanted to thank you all so much! But life's a bitch and I kinda got dumped this week, plus college started full force and I'm not having as much time to write as I'd like, plus finding the mood had been hard lately. But I will pull through, because I love you that much. Don't worry; I'm NOT planning to abandon this story anytime soon.**

**I'm just asking for patience with the upcoming updates. They WILL arrive, I'm just not sure how quickly. Also, if there's some unnecessary description of a bad mood, broken heart or dumping, at least you know where I'm coming from. But I'll try my best to stay clear of my personal life bleeding into that story. Thanks for understanding **

**And as always, supercalifragilisticexpialidocious thanks to Tracey, who has been an amazing help and support, even though she's got a lot to deal with and everyone should have a friend like her. I love you, babe 3**

**Okay, enough with the boring note! Ladies and even more ladies, I present you:**

* * *

**Chapter 3**

Sam returned that evening to his room, still feeling a bit dazed. Ever since Dean saved him and his classmates found out he was Sam's roommate, everyone wanted to be Sam's friend. He knew it was only because they were trying to get to Dean or to Hank Deacon – who, as Sam found out, was throwing the best parties on campus - through him but still, he had _friends_. He got invited for a coffee and people wanted his cell number.

And all thanks to the guy that was currently sitting on his bed in their room and chewing on a pencil. Sam was beyond grateful and when he noticed that Dean was frowning over a paper for his Legal journalism class, he decided he could repay him some.

"Need some help with that?" he asked.

"You think you're smarter than me now, huh?" Dean retorted without raising his eyes.

Sam's heart sank and he returned to the real world. Of course, Dean was only doing him a favour back there. He still didn't like him; he didn't want anything to do with him. Sam didn't know why he thought they were friends now, or why it hurt that they weren't.

"S-sorry," he muttered. "I-I...of course not."

Dean finally raised his eyes and he seemed surprised by Sam's reaction.

"Hey, it was just a joke, okay? We both _know_ you are smarter than me," he grinned.

Sam blinked at him in confusion.

"And the thing I said this morning about you doing my homework was a joke too. You don't have to do anything. I was glad I could help you," Dean added.

"Why?" Sam didn't want to get his hopes up again; he wanted to know where he stood with Dean. But at the same time, he feared that he wouldn't like the answer. "Why would you want to help me?"

"I already told you that," Dean sighed impatiently. "I feel like an ass, because I've never even given you a chance and you seem like a nice guy. And I definitely don't like you being bullied for any reason. But that doesn't mean you have to do me any favours," he gestured toward his homework.

"But I want to help," Sam insisted. "And about today, I really don't know how to thank you enough."

Sam sat down on his bed and told Dean what happened after he disappeared and left Sam alone to deal with his classmates. They both laughed when Sam described Gary Huffman's face.

The bad feeling about Dean faking it was gone, because Dean had no reason to pretend here and he was still nice to Sam, listening to him and laughing with him. Sam had to fight the urge to just cross the distance between them and hug the older boy, because he was certain he'd just saved Sam's education, if not his life.

When they finished talking, Dean went back to his homework. Sam watched him for a moment. Something about the older boy's presence made him feel good and safe. Today morning at the student lounge was the closest Sam ever got to being a part of a group and it felt nice. He wasn't really ready to lose it, but at the same time, he still didn't know what was real and what was just for show.

"Are you my friend, Dean?" Sam blurted out and immediately wished he could take those words back. He sounded like a whiny ten-year-old.

Dean's green eyes bore into his and the senior seemed to assess him. Sam could almost see the gears grind in Dean's brain and the longer his roommate took to answer, the more Sam feared the outcome. Finally, Dean smiled and it reached his eyes. It struck Sam how beautiful his roommate was. If he wasn't as straight as an arrow, Sam might have just fallen in love with him.

"Yeah, Sam. I am," Dean nodded.

Sam beamed and he honestly thought the bottom half of his head would fall down if he stretched the smile any wider.

"Okay, scoot then."

He sat next to Dean on his bed and together they worked on his homework. It felt like the most natural thing in the world, except Sam was excited about every minute of it. His roommate was his friend and he was helping him with homework because he wanted to, not because he had to. It was like a dream come true.

"Thanks, Sam," Dean said when they were finally done. "No really, I appreciate the help," he added, when Sam just shrugged noncommittally.

"It's fine, really," Sam blushed slightly and he got up quickly, so that Dean wouldn't see.

"By the way, I was serious about the party," Dean said, getting up as well and clearing his bed.

"Huh?" Sam said unintelligibly.

"Hank Deacon? Tomorrow? The party is real and you're invited. More than that, you're coming," Dean said with a finality to his voice.

"I thought you said he didn't like lawyers?" Sam asked carefully. He definitely didn't count with going to any parties. He wasn't a party material.

"Please," Dean scoffed. "He doesn't care as long as you know him or the right people. And _I_," he pointed at his chest smugly, "am definitely the right people."

"But I have nothing to wear," Sam tried weakly. From being invisible to being invited to some VIP party, that was a huge jump on a social ladder and Sam felt like things were going a little too fast for him.

"It's not a prom, Sam, your clothes will be fine," Dean chuckled.

"I just-, I don't-," Sam stuttered and sat on his bed dejectedly.

"You're gonna be fine," Dean said reassuringly. He was just about to walk into their bathroom, when he turned around and added. "Besides, I'll be there with you."

-xXx-

Dean was sitting on his bed, watching Sam trying to figure out what to wear to his first party ever. He should have brought a camera; it was too hilarious.

"How about this one?" Sam pointed at the grey shirt he was currently wearing.

"Doesn't matter what I say, you'll just throw it away like the rest of them," Dean retorted.

"You're right, it looks awful," Sam took the t-shirt off.

Dean rolled his eyes. It had been going like this for over an hour.

"I never said that," he countered. "But if it'll make you feel any better, I can lend you one of my shirts."

"You would?" Sam's head whipped up. "Really?"

Dean laughed, but nodded. It wasn't so much that his shirts were better than Sam's, Sam looked good in most of them, but if it made him feel better, Dean was more than happy to share.

It was actually ridiculous how good looking his roommate was. With his self-confidence, you'd expect a short nerd with pimples and greasy hair. But Sam was taller than Dean, had incredibly long legs, slim waist, but well-build body and a little too long hair that would look ridiculous on anyone, but looked perfect on him. He wore light blue jeans in which his ass looked good and that hung low on his hips. And he had really pretty eyes. Dean could spend hours just looking into them.

He blinked and put a stop to his thoughts.

Pretty eyes? Well-build body? Nice ass? Dean was supposed to be the friend with the upper hand here, not developing a crush. Plus he didn't even know which way Sam swung.

"There, the girls are gonna love you in this one," he grinned as he tossed him one of his shirts.

Sam just blushed and looked away, but didn't oppose.

_There you go,_ Dean told himself. _He likes girls._

And with that, he forgot all about that topic.

* * *

A whole bunch of them was standing outside Hank Deacon's door, waiting for him to open. Dean could see that even though Sam tried to laugh with others, he'd been growing more nervous with every step that brought them closer to the party. He threw an arm around his new friend.

"Excited?" he asked him with a broad grin.

Sam tried to smile and nodded.

"You're a terrible liar, you know that?" Dean laughed, but squeezed Sam's shoulder reassuringly. "Relax; it's not an exam you have to pass. No one's gonna judge your performance or anything."

Before Sam had the chance to answer, the door finally opened and Hank Deacon stood in the door, his gaze sweeping over everyone. His face broke into a huge grin.

"Hey guys! It's good to see you," he let them in.

Dean was right behind Sam and almost collided with his back, when the other suddenly stopped. Dean looked over his shoulder to see what the problem was. Hank's arm was in the way so that Sam couldn't walk through the door and he was frowning upon the freshman.

"And who're you?"

Dean completely understood Hank, people were trying to crash into his parties all the time, but he still wished the guy was a little friendlier with Sam.

"This is Sam Campbell, my roommate," he answered, because Sam seemed to be ready to bolt any second, but definitely not ready to speak.

"So he's here with you?" Hank looked at him. The question was loaded. Hank was actually asking Dean to take responsibility for Sam. If he broke anything or caused any trouble, Dean would get his ass kicked.

"Yeah, he is," Dean grinned at Sam who looked at him with utter gratitude.

A small part of Dean's brain wondered if maybe Sam thought this was some cruel joke and that Dean would just leave him in front of the door. He was really hoping it wasn't the case, but he was now more than ever determined to prove to Sam that he wasn't a total ass.

"Well, then welcome to the party, Sam," Hank smiled broadly at him and let them in finally.

Hank's apartment was already crowded and the group of friends helped themselves to some beer. Dean could tell from the way Sam sipped the drink from his cup that he wasn't used to drinking. He was probably gonna get wasted. Dean chuckled at the thought of the uptight, straight-A student Sam embarrassing himself on his first college party. And then he internally smacked himself for that thought and promised himself that he would get Sam out of there, before he could made a fool out of himself if it came down to it.

-xXx-

Sam felt like he got kidnapped by aliens and put into a parallel universe. He was at a house party. Jesus. A VIP-invited only house party with older people as a part of a group with one of the most popular guys in school.

He was really surprised by how well the other people just took him in. They didn't put him in the spotlight for questioning or making fun, but they didn't make him feel left out either and that was how it suited him the most. Of course, when they entered, they all went to greet their friends and Sam – who had none – was left alone, feeling a little lost, so he grabbed a beer and sat down on a sofa in the living room.

That was another unreal situation. He was drinking alcohol. Well, very carefully sipping some beer, but still. If someone had told him he'd do all these things a year, a month, hell a week ago, he'd laugh and then he'd cry, because that was just impossible.

But here he was, sitting on a couch next to Tess and Matt and a girl named Cassidy was trying to talk to him. And by talking to him, he meant flirting. Honest to God _flirting_. She was obviously drunk enough to not care that he barely even responded to her attempts to strike a conversation.

When she put her hand on his thigh and dragged it toward his crotch, he nearly jumped off the sofa they were sitting on and mumbled something about needing to go to the bathroom. She obviously took that as an invitation, because the second Sam walked through the boy's restroom's door, he found himself pressed against it and the girl's mouth was all over his.

It was weird, it was wrong and it was actually kind of gross. He instinctively pushed her away. She shot him a dirty look, but before Sam could form a decent apology, she was out of the door. Sam sighed and banged the back of his head against the door. Coming here was probably the worst idea ever.

When he walked back into the living room, the girl was already sitting in the lap of – Sam's heart stopped beating for a few moments – Gary Huffman. The boy raised his eyes and his smile was the most evil thing Sam had ever seen.

"Hey Campbell, I hope you don't mind me taking care of your girl," he yelled at Sam, so everyone could hear it. Sure enough, heads had already started turning in their direction.

Sam looked around, but none of the faces was familiar to him. He wished Dean hadn't just left him there in the middle of a room full of strangers and Gary, but he couldn't expect his roommate to babysit him all the time.

What if Dean was the one to invite Gary in the first place? Cold wave of horror washed over him. It would actually made sense; he'd gotten Sam to trust him, lured him out to a party and then left him alone with Gary to be humiliated even more than he already was. His heart sank at that thought and he searched the room one more time, just in case Dean magically appeared somewhere and saved him again. But neither Dean, nor any of his friends were around anymore and Sam started to be really scared now.

"She didn't seem very satisfied," Gary's sly voice returned him into the present. "Do you even know how to satisfy a girl?"

Cassidy giggled and pressed further into Gary's chest. Some of the people surrounding them were laughing as well.

Sam sat down awkwardly on the other end of the sofa. Gary ran his hand up and down Cassidy's arm, all the while he had his eyes firmly set on Sam. Sam guessed he thought he was actually hurting him by hitting on "Sam's" girl, so he just shrugged. He didn't know what to say, really, and the weight of the unwanted attention he was getting was making him uncomfortable.

"Oh, Sam, you're not a _virgin_, are you?" Gary laughed.

"Of course not," Sam lied. He could feel his ears burn and he was sure he was as red as a tomato.

"Prove it, then," Gary smirked.

"What?" Sam gaped numbly.

Gary grabbed Cassidy's neck and crushed their mouths together. After a while, he pulled back and nudged her in Sam's direction.

"Go ahead, sweetheart," he encouraged. "Tell us who the better kisser is."

Sam's eyes widened, when he realized what Gary's plan was. There was no way to back out of this, everyone stared and Cassidy kept coming closer and closer...

Sam closed his eyes and opened his mouth, when he felt her lips on his. He wasn't sure what to do, so he just mirrored her actions. Her tongue plundered his mouth, she tasted like beer and something that was probably Gary and Sam felt a bile rise up to his throat. He couldn't hear anything over the blood pounding in his ears, which was probably a good thing.

When Cassidy finally pulled away, Sam didn't dare to look away from her face.

"So?" Gary asked. From the tone of his voice, it was obvious that he was sure who'd win.

"Well this was definitely better than our first kiss," the girl giggled and dropped back on the couch. "But I'd say Gary's the one."

All of the people that were paying attention laughed and clapped as Gary kissed Cassidy again. He made sure to look at Sam while he did.

"Yo, Sam!" a guy he'd never seen before addressed him. "Where'd you get that black eye?"

"Yeah, Sam, where'd you get it?" Gary smirked, not giving Sam any chance to answer – not that he would know what to say anyway. "Did you trip over your gigantic feet again?"

Laughter.

"I swear this guy keeps falling down in the most unpredictable moments. Guess it must be hard control your body, when you're this tall."

More laughter.

Sam unclenched one of his fists – unaware of clenching them in the first place – and fished out his cell phone. He found Dean's number and hovered over it. There was an almost non-existent chance that Dean would help him for the third time.

"Hey, Sam, don't be so shy," he heard Gary's voice and then someone was forcing another cup into his hand. "Drink up."

So he did, what else he was supposed to do. It wasn't a beer; it was something much stronger. The alcohol burned his throat and his eyes watered, but he managed not to pull any face. For a terrible few seconds he was almost certain he wouldn't be able to hold the liquor down.

"Refill!" someone shouted. "Come on, boy; show us what you've got!"

Before he was forced to drink another cup of that disgusting liquid, he sent a SOS text to Dean. Sure, there was a chance that this was what Dean had planned all along and Sam had just made a complete fool out of himself, but so far, Dean had not given him a reason not to trust him.

It wasn't until the text was sent that he realized, that while Dean had given him his number, Sam never got the chance to give him _his_.

-xXx-

At first, Dean wasn't comfortable with leaving Sam on his own. He went to greet his friends and when he turned around, Sam was gone. He found him in Hank's living room with a girl practically all over his lap.

"That's my boy," he said to no one with a broad smile and left Sam in peace.

The freshman was obviously capable of taking care of himself when given the nudge in the right direction.

He turned around and noticed the guy that had been bothering his roommate by the lunch the other day. He frowned and searched for Hank.

"Hey, dude, what's _he_ doing here?" he pointed his beer in the guy's direction, once he'd found the host of the party.

"Gary Huffman? Our fathers do some business together, we've met before," Hank shrugged. "Seemed rude not to invite him. Why, you got a problem with that?"

"I don't like him," Dean admitted. Trust all the rich people to know each other.

"Then don't talk to him. There's plenty of other people here, dude," Hank smirked.

Dean knew he had a point, but he still wanted to check on Sam, just to make sure he was okay. He was turning into a goddamn mother hen. His friends fortunately caught up to him and dragged him away, before he could act on that and very possibly embarrass himself.

They decided to play beer-pong. He and Matt against Jim and Ben. Once again, he found himself missing Ash. Ash was a pro in this game, he'd handed Jim and Ben their asses on a platter countless of times. But thanks to that, they got the best training and now that Ash was gone, they were simply invincible.

Matt's game was on, but Dean's seemed a bit off. When they lost another set, Matt mock complained that Dean's head was in the clouds the whole time, but Dean just laughed it off.

The truth was, Dean couldn't help but think about Sam. Was he okay? Was he still with the girl? What if he wanted to take her back to their room? They didn't even establish a signal for the room being 'occupied'. Was he making new friends?

He'd heard laughter from the living room. He didn't even know if Sam was still there, he might've been in the bathroom with his girl, or on their way back to their room. Or maybe it was the freshman – however unlikely that was – telling some joke that made the whole room laugh.

He heard the sound of a ping-pong ball falling into yet another of their cups and it was his turn to drink. He felt his back pocket vibrate and checked his phone. There was a text from an unknown number.

_Help me, please_

He didn't hesitate for a second; he threw some mumbled excuse to his friends over his shoulder and didn't look back, even though they were yelling at him, demanding an explanation of his sudden departure.

He was in the living room in a matter of seconds.

The fucking bastard Gary was pouring Sam a cup from some undefined bottle, but it was definitely something stronger than beer.

"Come on, big boy," Gary laughed. "Show us what you're made of."

Everyone around them cheered. Dean's stomach clenched in an unpleasant way. He hated this Gary kid with a passion.

As Sam was raising his cup to his mouth, he looked up and spotted him. His eyes were watery and glassy – how many of those shots did they make him drink? – and for a few seconds there was hope in his eyes, but then his eyes widened in a question.

_Are you here to help or to laugh?_

Dean really hated that Sam still thought he'd just stab him in the back like this. He smiled at the freshman and walked over, grabbed the cup from Sam's hands and plopped down on the couch next to him.

"Hey, stop torturing my roommate, would you?" he laughed and sipped from the cup. Tequila.

He casually threw his arm around Sam's shoulders and he could've sworn the freshman pressed closer to his side. He squeezed his shoulder for reassurance.

"Isn't he a little young to be your roommate?" some girl asked.

"Might be," Dean shrugged. "But believe me; I wouldn't trade him for the world. Not even for Hank," he smirked.

Sam raised his eyes and blinked up at him in surprise. Gary frowned and took a step back with his bottle. Obviously, his free shots weren't meant for Dean. But in this room, Dean was much more than Gary, so the bastard took the hint and let go of teasing Sam for now.

"Did he tell you how he got the black eye?"

"He tripped and fell," a guy named Brady supplied the information.

Sam tensed against Dean.

"I never said that!" he barked out.

It was the first thing the kid said since Dean came and the slur of his words was giving away just how much drunk he was.

"Sam here probably just tried to protect my reputation, but since we're among friends, I'll tell you. But it doesn't leave this room, understood?"

Everybody nodded enthusiastically and solemnly swore that they wouldn't tell. Dean smirked. Ginny and Jenny, the school's most informed gossip girls were here, so he was sure the whole university would know this story by tomorrow.

"So, I'm walking from this party one night. Well, not exactly the party, more like the _after_ party at one girl's room, if you catch my drift?" he winked and looked around. Everyone was hooked to his story. Including Gary and – which was funny – Sam.

"So it's true, you let the girls take you to _their_ room," Jenny asked. She was going to be a great tabloid interviewer one day.

"Well, it was Sam's turn to take the girl to ours, so what was I supposed to do, say no?" Dean snorted.

Jenny's mouth formed into an "O" and everyone's stare flickered to Sam, who was blushing heavily.

"Anyway," Dean continued to get the attention back on himself. "We had a couple of shots and I was...a little intoxicated," he made a stop for laughter. God, he could do this for a living. "And out of nowhere, this dude runs past me and nudges my shoulder. He was a big, scary guy and I still think he was too old to be on the Campus, but that's not the point."

The girls had already their eyebrows arched so high, it almost disappeared in their hairlines.

"Obviously, he had something to drink as well and he wanted to start a fight. So he yells at me that I shoved him or whatever and he's really fucking _huge_, so I start walking as fast as I can to our room. But the dude's following me!"

Jenny, Ginny and a few others – not all of them girls – positively gasped.

"Even when I reached the dorm, he was still following me and yelling some shit about breaking my face and putting me back in my place. I would have fought him off, of course," he saw the smirk on some guy's faces. "But as I said, I was too drunk to even open my door, let alone fight. So I reach the door and bang at Sam, praying to God that he hears me."

Everyone was gaping at them and even when they looked at Sam, the way they looked at him had changed. Dean was a little proud of himself, because he wouldn't forgive himself if Sam or Sam's reputation got hurt because of this party. It was his idea that Sam would come after all.

"When Sam walked out, I thought he was going to punch me for waking him after some good sex."

Now the guys outright laughed and someone even slapped Sam's back saying "I know that feel, bro".

"But when he heard the guy, he just shoved me inside and punched _him_ instead."

Everyone was staring at Sam in awe now.

"The guy got a hit, alright. But you should've seen him, when he limped out. I swear I was never happier that I'm Sam's friend than then."

He searched Gary's face in the crowd and narrowed his eyes at him.

"We've got each other's backs."

Gary cocked his head to one side slightly, but that was the only indication that he got the message. Whatever, if he tried anything else with Sam, he would have to deal with Dean. And dealing with Dean meant dealing with _a lot_ of people. Rich father or not.

He answered some questions and let the conversation flow into different topic, not as interesting, and slowly people started to go back to whatever they were doing before and stopped paying attention to them.

When he turned his head to Sam, the younger boy was still staring at him with awe in his soft hazel eyes.

"So tell me," Dean chuckled. "Just how much did you drink?"

"You saved me again," Sam whispered. "You're my hero."

"Oh, _that_ much," Dean rolled his eyes. He refused to acknowledge the warmth that spread through him, when he heard those words. "Think you can handle the walk back?"

"You wanna go already?" Sam asked. "You haven't even found a girl yet," he slurred and looked around, probably searching for said girl.

"No girl tonight," Dean said and pulled Sam up with him. "But we're leaving. You've had enough."

"I'm sorry," Sam lowered his gaze. "I'll walk alone, you can stay." He made a few steps before losing his balance. Luckily, Dean caught him, before he could break anything.

"Like hell you are, just wait here," Dean commanded and left him standing by the door, so that he could say goodbye to his friends.

They raised their eyebrows at him, but when he'd said it was about Sam, they didn't push it.

"Okay, let's go."

He wrapped his arm around Sam's waist and let the kid lean against him, as they walked. It wasn't that bad, Sam was pretty capable of walking, he just needed Dean to keep him going in the right direction.

Sam stumbled and they almost fell down a few times. The freshman always started apologizing and Dean always had to assure him that he wasn't mad, before the kid shut up.

"Okay, Sam, that's enough," he finally snapped, when they reached their door and Sam dropped his key, which resulted in another string of apologies. "It was your first party; I was _counting _on you getting smashed. So stop saying you're sorry, because it's not a bother to me, okay?"

The kid shut his mouth and let Dean manhandle him in their room and onto his bed.

"Just one more?" he asked quietly, when he sat down on his mattress.

"One more what?" Dean asked.

"One more sorry," Sam smiled sadly.

Dean sighed exasperatedly, but nodded and sat down next to Sam.

"I'm sorry you got stuck with me as a roommate," he bowed his head. "You know, the story you told today, I really wish I was that Sam, I do. I wish you could have fun with me and I had your back and you wouldn't have to babysit me all the time," he tumbled over his words a few times, but the message got through to Dean.

"Okay, one last time," Dean said and forced Sam to look at him. "I am your _friend_. You might not believe it, but when I first came here, I was a lot like you."

The disbelieving snort from Sam wasn't really unexpected.

"But I had my roommate take care of me, so that's what I'm doing right now. I'm taking care of you, and once you're a big-ass lawyer, maybe you'll return the favour."

He considered the smile this drew out of Sam a win.

"So," he bumped his friend's shoulder. "I saw you with that girl. Good job, man," he grinned.

"Yeah, well, what can I say, I'm a magnet for the ladies," Sam laughed and in its own drunken way it was adorable. "I got my first kiss today," he added.

"First? Really?"

"Well, first _real _one, yeah. But she was a girl. Therefore, not my type," Sam admitted.

Then his head snapped up, when he realized what he'd just said. His eyes were huge and boring into Dean, waiting for a verdict.

"So, you mean..." Dean started carefully, taken aback by this confession as well. "You are..."

"Gay? Yeah," Sam chewed on his bottom lip. "That a problem?"

Dean shook his head.

"And you said you've never..."

"Don't say you're surprised," Sam looked away and the sound he made sounded suspiciously like a sniff.

"Okay, then," Dean smiled and put his hand on Sam's chin.

Sam only had the time to look up, before Dean pressed his lips against Sam's.

Dean was Sam's first kiss.

Some sort of responsibility rushed through him as he let his lips slide back and forth over Sam's. He was as gentle as possible, but firm and adamant. Not that Sam was backing away or complaining. Dean was carefully deepening the kiss, working Sam's mouth open inch by inch.

He tried to make it the kind of first kiss he would've wanted and if he was completely honest with himself, even though he hated thinking back on those times, he actually had.

But this wasn't about him; this was about Sam. Dean pushed his tongue past Sam's teeth.

Sam tasted like alcohol and not much else and it was obvious that the kid had no idea what he was doing. But at least he didn't slobber all over Dean's mouth. Dean slowly coaxed him into relaxing with his tongue.

His hand disappeared in Sam's long bangs, which were much softer than Dean would have thought. Not that he'd thought about them that way. But they just didn't _look_ this soft. He felt Sam's hand tentatively rest on his shoulder and then slowly creep its way on the back of Dean's neck.

They kissed for a long time. Dean had the time to make it past the taste of alcohol and get to something that must have been pure _Sam_. It was a good taste, but then, not many people tasted outright badly. He liked the smell of Sam's shampoo.

Sam got bolder and pushed Dean's tongue back to his mouth, followed by his own. Dean let him and had to admit that the kid – however inexperienced – was a quick learner. Just a little bit of practise and...

Dean pulled away then. Sam was staring at him with huge, glassy and now dazed eyes and his kiss-swollen lips were shining with spit. He was gorgeous and Dean had to stand up, before he did anything stupid.

"Now you've been kissed," he tossed a wink over his shoulder and disappeared in the bathroom.

In the shower, he jerked off to the images of Sam's lean body writhing under him, his mouth stretched around his cock and taking anything Dean had to give...

When he came down from his post-orgasmic haze, he realized, he very much wanted to be Sam's first...everything, when it came to sex and sexual stuff. He knew there was some sort of kick in being someone's first, but he'd never felt it until now.

It gave you a power over said person. And Dean knew what happened, when someone misused this power first hand. He shook his head to get rid of the memories of his first and only boyfriend, but the longer he was in the shower, the fiercer they returned.

He ended up almost running from the bathroom. That was in the past now, he thought as he closed the door. He was over it. He was fine. He was his own man now and he didn't need to dwell on his past mistakes.

He walked over to Sam's bed, where his roommate was soundly asleep. Dean dragged his blanket from under him, opened the button of his jeans – ignoring the interested twitch his dick gave at that – and covered him up. He caressed Sam's peaceful face.

He'd make sure no one hurt this boy like he'd been hurt. Dean was going to take that responsibility and he wouldn't let Sam down. He'd enjoy showing his roommate just what the world of gay sex had to offer. It would be beneficial for both sides.


	4. Chapter 4

**Whoa, the season 9 has started, how awesome is that? If anyone wants to talk about the feels, my chat is always open!**

**A traditional gigantic thanks for**** FallenAngel2487 ****who does the hard work and I keep making it harder and harder. By the way, she's writing too and she definitely deserves your attention.**

* * *

Sam woke up with a pounding headache. His mouth felt like something had crawled in and died in there during the night. When he opened his eyes, he groaned when the light hit him full force. Had the sun always shone this brightly?

When he tried opening his eyes for a second time, he covered them with his hand and peered through his fingers at the clock.

_Crap!_ His first class was starting in like twenty minutes! He quickly shot up from the bed, but the world started spinning around and he had to sit back down. That didn't help the spinning though and he started to feel nauseous. He made it to the toilet bowl barely in time.

When he finished retching, he stood up shakily and rinsed his mouth. He looked in the mirror. He was pale, his eyes were red and beads of sweat were shining on his forehead. Just why did people drink exactly if it did _this_ to them the morning after. Now he understood why Dean never woke up early, no matter if he had class or not.

Shit, the class!

He stumbled back into the room and searched his wardrobe for something to wear. His head was still spinning and at one point, he had to stop moving completely just to keep from throwing up again, even though he was sure he had nothing else to give. That was when he realized he could smell himself. He was still in his yesterday's clothes. God, he needed a shower. He was _never_ gonna make it in time!

"What's the matter, Sam?" he heard Dean's voice.

He quickly turned around to find his roommate's sleep-crumpled face peeking at him from under his blanket. His head very distinctively didn't thank him for the sudden movement. Dean put a hand to his mouth.

"Don't like your first hangover?" the senior yelled loudly.

"Oh for Christ's sakes," Sam whined and screwed his eyes shut, trying to will the headache Dean's yelling had caused to subside. "Having fun?" he huffed.

"You have no idea," Dean grinned.

"I really hate you for making me go to that party!" Sam frowned. "Now I'm gonna be late for class and-"

"Dude, it's Saturday, chill," Dean rolled his eyes.

Sam blinked. That was right. Why didn't he remember that? He was never one to lose his track of time. Come to think of that, why didn't he remember the other half of last night at all?

"Go back to bed," Dean commanded. "Your body's gonna thank you later, trust me."

Sam sat back down on his bed and shook off his clothes. He wanted to ask Dean why he didn't force him out of his clothes before they went to sleep, but the senior was already back in the land of the dreaming.

Sam lay down and tried to make some sense from the mess in his head. Just when the fog finally started to clear, the sleep pulled him under.

The second round of rousing went much slower and smoother than the first. Sam opened one eye, figured out it was safe to open the other as well and stretched his body. Had the yawn been a bit bigger, his mouth would have been torn off. He felt like some giant truck hit him really hard, but it was still generally better than how he'd felt a few hours earlier.

Dean wasn't in the room, but there was a glass of water, a pill of aspirin and a note on Sam's nightstand.

_Went out for lunch, figured you wouldn't want to eat anyway._

_Enjoy your first time,_

_D._

Sam chuckled. Trust Dean to make something as horrible as a hangover sound like a first kiss.

Wait a moment.

Holy Hell!

The memories of Dean's lips on his and Dean's tongue in his mouth overflowed him. Just how the heck did _that_ happen?

Sam recalled talking about first kisses and then he'd told Dean – _oh no_ – that he was gay. But Dean's reaction absolutely didn't make any sense. He wasn't gay by any chance, not if the string of girls was anything to go by.

And was it a _good_ kiss. Sam wished his memories were complete. He recalled the kiss and the feelings it stirred in him, but still every second of it that he couldn't remember was a wasted one. He wanted a round two.

But how was that gonna happen now? And why did Dean do it in the first place?

As if on cue, the door opened and his roommate flashed him a broad smile when he walked in.

"Sleeping beauty is up," he laughed. "Feeling any better?"

"You _kissed_ me!" Sam replied, still unable to wrap his head around that.

"That I did," Dean smiled coyly. "I'm not surprised you remember that, I'm a fabulous kisser," he grinned smugly and plopped down on his bed.

Sam blushed heavily; he was not one to argue with that.

"B-but how?" Sam asked incredulously. "I mean...the girls! You like girls!"

"Yes, I do, but I don't discriminate. I like to pick the best from both species," Dean kept on grinning.

"Oh," Sam deflated. "I didn't have a clue," he complained. "Shouldn't being gay come with some sort of gaydar?"

Dean outright laughed at that.

"Please," he scoffed. "Do I look gay to you?"

Sam shook his head. Really, nothing about Dean even remotely suggested that he would be interested in the same sex. He never even talked about guys that way, let alone brought one here. It was always girls.

And Sam was fine with that, really. When he thought Dean was straight, his mind just never even went _there_. But now, how was he supposed to resist his roommate's charm? And how the hell was he supposed to forget about the kiss? He wanted, no _needed_ Dean to kiss him one more time.

"Not all guys are that obvious," Dean winked. "You're gonna have to figure them out, before you hit on them."

Okay, so it probably wasn't going to be Dean who'd kiss him next, he could live with that. What he couldn't live with, though, was that he now had to actually go and flirt with someone and if that wasn't something impossible, Sam's last name wasn't Campbell.

"I have to work on this paper for a bit," Dean's voice broke his musing. "But we're going to grab some snack later. Wanna join?"

"Sure, hopefully I'll be able to stomach the food by then," Sam grinned sheepishly.

"Right," Dean chuckled. "And what do you know? Maybe you'll find someone that'll catch your eye," he wriggled his eyebrows suggestively.

Sam looked away and busied himself with going through his notes to find an assignment to work on. He really didn't want to think about stuttering to get some guy's attention and then being laughed at by both the guy and the group of friends.

"Hey," Dean spoke softly as if sensing his worry. "Don't worry. I'll teach you anything you need to know."

Sam looked at his roommate surprised. The senior's smile was genuine, but the mischievous spark in his emerald eyes held a promise.

* * *

Fortunately, he didn't have to flirt with anyone on that lunch. He still wasn't really able to eat much and Dean's friends made fun of his hangover, but it was a good kind of joking. Then they moved on to the topic of the party. They were mostly talking about people Sam didn't know.

It seemed that someone managed to puke all over Hank's carpet and the host had been so pissed that he'd made the poor guy clean it once he sobered up a bit. Also, this person was apparently no longer welcome at Hank's parties. Sam could've easily pictured himself in this guy's position and once again found himself utterly grateful for Dean's rescue. It had led to different embarrassments, but at least _those_ were more private and the whole senior year wasn't talking about them over food.

"Oh, and Tess and Matt spent the whole evening together again, but they're 'not a couple'," Julie said, making air quotes with her hands.

The not-a-couple, who was conveniently sitting next to each other rolled their eyes.

"Would you guys cut the crap?" Tess sighed exasperatedly. "Not a couple, never going to happen, now shut up." Matt was glaring at them every bit as angrily as Tess.

Sam's eyes kept darting between the two of them. They didn't _look_ like a couple. Sure, as far as he could tell, they were always near each other, when he'd been out with the group, but there was no hand-holding, no kissing, no flirting or teasing, nothing.

"Tess and Matt were meant to be," Dean grinned at Sam. "They just don't know it yet." And then he burst in laughter, when Tess threw some of his fries at him.

Not too long after that, they got kicked out of the diner for throwing a food-fight.

* * *

The rest of the day went by pretty fast, Sam spent most of it hunched over his midterm papers and taking naps, because having a hangover was obviously very exhausting.

When he'd woken up on Sunday at his regular hour, he was feeling okay again. He grabbed a bunch of books he'd borrowed from the library and went to return them. Some of them were really overdue and he earned himself a dirty look from the old librarian, but he still walked out of there with an armful of freshly borrowed books and a huge smile. Yeah, he might be a nerd, but he loved books.

He was too engrossed in thinking that he hadn't realized someone was walking in the opposite direction, until they collided and his books were scattered all over the ground. His first reflex was to drop on his knees and gather them, before whoever pushed him could ruin them.

"Oh, I'm so sorry," he heard a female voice and someone dropped next to him and helped him with the books. "You know what they say about texting while driving? Well, texting while walking should be illegal as well. I'm really sorry."

Sam hauled his books back up and smiled at the girl in front of him. She was one of his classmates.

"Oh, Sam, is that you?" she smiled, when she looked up at him.

"Uh, yeah?" he smiled sheepishly, because he didn't know her name. And that wasn't something usual in Sam's life.

"My name's Jessica," she blushed softly and stuck out her hand.

"I'd very much like to shake your hand," Sam said apologetically. "But my hands are kinda full."

"Oh. Yeah, haha, of course," the girl's cheeks coloured an even deeper shade of pink. "You need a hand with that?" she pointed at the pile of books in his arms.

"Uh, I can manage, thanks. I wouldn't want to keep you from wherever you were walking while texting," he smirked. It amazed him how easy he found it to talk to her, even though she was just a girl.

"It's not a bother, really," she smiled and took half of his books. "It's the least I can do after I ran into you."

They talked all the way to his room and Sam was pleasantly surprised by how much they had in common. She was also a shy and not out-going person, hence why she was probably one of the last people in his class whose name he didn't know; she got here thanks to a scholarship as well, even though just for the accommodation, but still and most importantly, she loved books.

"So, uhm," Jessica scratched her neck and averted her eyes, when they reached Sam's room. "Do you have time now? I kinda have nothing to do for a couple hours, so maybe we could grab a coffee and talk some more?" she forced those words out in one single stream and Sam blinked at her for a moment, unable to process it so quickly.

"Okay, nevermind," she blushed and handed him the books she'd been carrying.

"No, no wait," Sam said quickly, when he realized she must have mistook his silence for an answer. "Just let me put these away. We can go," he smiled.

"Really?" she beamed at him.

"Yeah, there's not many people I could talk to about the classic literature without being looked at like a complete dork."

She chuckled at that and Sam went inside to put his books away, leaving her outside to wait for a few minutes.

"Hey, Sam," Dean greeted him from the bed, where he was reading some book with headphones with his ears, one of them was hanging loose, because Dean took it out, when Sam walked in.

"Hey," Sam greeted back.

"Are you busy this evening?" Dean asked.

"Uh, no, shouldn't be, why?" Sam frowned. He definitely _wasn't_ going to any party anytime soon.

"Wanna go to dinner with me?" Dean smiled coyly. Sam didn't like that look one bit.

"What's the catch?" he asked carefully.

"I don't know what you're talking about," Dean's face was all fake-innocence, now. "I'd just thought that you'd want to broaden your experience in the field of love," he winked.

"W-what?" Sam said dumbfounded.

"I think we should teach you how to flirt. You're gonna need it if you ever want to date."

Sam felt the blood drain from his face.

"Look, thanks for the offer, but I don't really feel like embarrassing myself in front of some stranger in the middle of a diner or wherever it was you wanted to take me, so..." he trailed off, hoping that Dean would let go of that topic.

Even though he knew he wouldn't.

"Who do you take me for?" Dean seemed genuinely offended now. "You're not gonna be flirting with a stranger. You're gonna be flirting with _me_," he pointed at his chest and grinned.

Sam almost choked on his own saliva, but fortunately, a knock on the door gave him the welcome diversion. He almost smacked himself on the head when he realized, he'd almost forgotten about the girl in front of his door.

"Sorry," he said, looking down sheepishly. "Let's go now."

"It's a date, then," he heard Dean call after him, right before he closed the door.

* * *

The coffee with Jessica was surprisingly fun. They switched between the topics of books and school mostly. Unlike Sam, who figured he'd find out what exactly he wanted to do after college during his years at said university, Jess had her whole life planned out. She wanted to be a lawyer focusing on the cases of abused women and children.

She said there was a girl, back in her fifth grade, who was in no way sticking out of the crowd. She wasn't the prom queen, but she had her friends (Jessica included), she was generally a sweet and generous girl, if a bit closed off.

As they grew older, though, she started missing classes, she withdrew herself and slowly lost most of her friends. Jessica focused on her studying; thinking that her friend had gone down a wrong path in her life, but that it was her decision. It wasn't until high school that she found out in the local paper that the girl had killed herself due to being physically and sexually abused by her stepfather for years.

Sam thought she felt a little responsible for not trying to help her friend, while she had the chance, but he was not going to discourage her from her course in life. If anyone seemed capable of making a change, it was Jess.

At some point during talking about classes, Jess mentioned having troubles with the legislative jurisdiction among all the cities and states and Sam naturally offered to tutor her. When she happily accepted, he grew a little worried that maybe that was all this had been about. Even though she would have gone a great lengths just to get him to tutor her.

But instead of excusing herself or losing her interest, as he'd expected her to, she seemed that much more thrilled to talk. The time went by pretty fast and he hadn't realized he'd forgotten his 'date' with Dean, until the senior appeared at their table.

"Sam, what are you doing here," he exclaimed. "We had plans, remember?"

Frankly, Sam expected Jess to start swooning or fanning over Dean or something, or maybe blush and stutter something shyly, but instead she frowned and sat back on her chair a bit.

"Um, Jess you probably know my roommate, Dean. Dean, this is Jess, we've just met today," he introduced his two friends to each other. "And I'm sorry, I forgot about the time. Plus it's not like we actually _agreed_ on a specific time."

"Oh, I see how a fine looking lady like that would keep you occupied," Dean said, focusing on Jess and offering her his hand. "Dean Winchester."

"Jessica Moore," she answered rather coldly and when Dean took her hand to his lips and kissed the top of it, she quickly pulled back as though he'd burnt her and glared at him.

Sam was honestly taken aback by the sudden change in her behaviour. Okay, Dean might have interrupted them, but he was being nice towards her. He had no idea what might have triggered her sudden hostility.

Dean on the other hand continued smiling. It didn't even seem forced, if anything, he looked fairly amused.

"Well if your lovely friend will allow," he said with a wink aimed at Jess who crossed arms over her chest. "We were supposed to have that dinner, remember?" Dean turned his gaze back to Sam.

Jess pressed her lips into a thin line, but said nothing, waiting for Sam to decide.

"I'm really sorry, Jess, but I kind of promised Dean to have dinner with him and talking to you was so much fun that I'd completely forgotten..." Sam looked at her sheepishly. "Sorry?"

Her mouth twitched at that and she shrugged.

"Well what can I do," she said standing up and gathered her things. "But I'll see you later, right?" she asked Sam.

"Sure," he smiled at her and stood up as well, throwing some bills at their table.

"I definitely wouldn't mind seeing you later, if you know what I mean," Dean said slyly, dragging his gaze up and down her body.

"Dream on, you jerk," she spat out and walked away.

* * *

"I'm really sorry about Jess," Sam said as they sat down in the Campus diner. "She'd been really nice, I don't know what's gotten into her."

"Oh, don't worry about it, I liked her," Dean answered, but Sam didn't believe him. "Though I didn't think you'd start practising your dating skills beforehand," he smirked.

"What are you talking about?" Sam frowned in confusion.

"Are you really that blind?" Dean raised his eyebrow at him. "That girl has got the hots for you."

Sam snorted, which resulting in sputtering the coffee he'd ordered all over their table.

"Dude, I just met her today. She was just being nice, cause we're in the same class and she needs tutoring," he explained, while wiping the table clean with a napkin.

"She asked you to tutor her?" Dean laughed. "Sam, that's the textbook example of hitting on you! If the whole snarling at me, because I stole you away and because I openly flirted with her in front of you wasn't enough for you."

"You're making this up," Sam frowned, because that was just impossible. Girls didn't fall in love with him. Neither did boys, for that matter.

"Am I? I bet you a fifty that I'm right," he offered his hand for shaking. "And you, my dear friend, have got a major problem, because unless you forgot to tell me something, you're not exactly batting for her team. You're gonna have to figure out a way to reject her without breaking her heart."

Sam didn't shake his hand.

"I'm not betting on that! And why do you care?"

"She's a nice person," Dean replied and pulled his hand back with a smug grin.

"How would you know? She wasn't overly nice to _you_," Sam said pointedly.

"She isn't using you to get to me," Dean shrugged. "That qualifies as 'nice' in my book."

"Not everyone in this school is into you, you know," Sam muttered, but he had to admit, it was nice to think there was someone who liked him for _him._

"Okay, you're getting an F from today's flirting lesson," Dean said mock-offended.

The waitress brought their food and set the plate with a bacon cheeseburger in front of Dean and the bowl of Caesar salad in front of Sam.

Sam was thankful for the distraction, because he could feel his ears burn hot with embarrassment again. He had kind of hoped Dean had forgotten about the original purpose of their 'date'.

"Okay, so let's say you got me drunk enough to agree to go out on a date with you," Dean said, when the waitress walked away again.

"Well thank you very much," Sam mumbled grumpily, but Dean ignored him.

"Here we are, having a dinner. What do you do?"

"You're really serious about this, aren't you?" Sam asked instead. "The whole 'how to pick up a guy guide' thing."

"Of course I am," Dean nodded. "Now that I can bring over guys without the fear of your reaction, I want you to go out too. But I can't let you out there unprepared," he smirked.

"Well that is really nice of you, but do we really have to do _this_?" Sam waved his hand between them.

"What, am I not good enough for you?" Dean pouted.

Sam just rolled his eyes, but surrendered.

"Okay, so we don't know each other, right? We've just met at a party. And you were drunk," he added.

"Well I wasn't _that_ drunk," Dean laughed softly. "I remembered the date. And decided to go. So it's safe to assume that I liked you."

"So, uh. Hi?" Sam raised his eyes and scratched the back of his neck nervously.

It was stupid to be nervous, because this was _Dean_ and not really a date, but still. Sam only functioned on the passed/failed basis and he wasn't used to failing.

Dean laughed so hard that some of the other guests looked their way. Sam was never more grateful that they couldn't tell the senior was laughing at him.

"Wow," Dean said finally, when he remembered to breathe again, wiping the tears out of his eyes. "This is gonna take a lot of work."

Sam lowered his eyes. He didn't quite enjoy being mocked and that coming from one of the only real friends he had, it felt even worse.

"But it's gonna be fun," Dean winked at him. "Just be natural. Talk about anything. It'll work itself out."

"Since when are _you_ such an expert at dating?" Sam huffed.

"I used to date," Dean shrugged. "Still do, sometimes. Some people take effort to get into bed," he grinned.

Sam laughed at that, but it occurred to him that he didn't know anything about Dean's love life. During the weeks living in one room with him, he'd learned a lot more than he ever wanted about the senior's sex life, or at least about the female part of it, but there was never a girl- or a boyfriend, no going out with someone, nothing of that kind. And Sam seriously doubted it was because of lack of trying of the others.

He took Dean's advice and started talking about the food. They quickly moved from the topic of their favourite food to their favourite almost anything and if Dean wasn't lying or still playing someone else, they actually had quite a lot in common. Except for the plans for their future, obviously.

At one point, a cloud that had been blocking the sun must have moved or something, because the rays of the setting sun shone through the blinds of the diner's window and fell on Dean's head. He'd been in the middle of talking about his praxis in a local paper's office last year. His already blonde hair seemed golden all of a sudden and the light reflected in his eyes, making them seem almost magical. Dean should get a copyright on the colour, because there wasn't a shade of green in the world that came even close. The freckles were almost invisible in the light. And as Dean was talking, his full lips were moving, shaping the words and it was all Sam could do not to shut him up with a kiss, because this _wasn't_ a date. Not really.

"Saaaaaam," Dean said loud and long, snapping his fingers in front of Sam's eyes. "Did you fall asleep on me? Am I that boring?"

"What?" Sam said numbly, shaking his head. Did he really just tune Dean out just so he could drool over his face in the evening sun?

"Nothing," Dean smiled, but looked down, chewing on his bottom lip.

Sam hadn't known Dean for too long, but he'd known him long enough to start noticing signals of his non-verbal communication. Plus he'd been really paying attention to the older boy.

That was why he knew that Dean might be smiling and shrugging and saying 'Nothing', but in combination with looking down it means 'Something'. And when the bottom lip is also involved, it means 'Something important'.

He quickly rewound the latest development of their conversation in his head. Dean'd been talking about his plans for the future and his praxis. His eyes lit up the way they did when he'd been truly enthusiastic about something. And Sam gave him the impression that it wasn't interesting enough. That was rude, at the very least.

"No, no, you weren't boring me, really," he said quickly, covering Dean's hand with his without a second thought. "I just zoned out, wondering if maybe the universe is trying to make up for High school by giving me someone as amazing as you for a roommate. Seriously, no one in your position would do what you're doing for me. And I don't know if I've ever said thanks. So thank you. I appreciate it, all of it.

The light must have been still playing with his vision, because he could've sworn he'd seen Dean blush. And that just wasn't possible.

"That right there," Dean nodded to their hands, "earned you a solid C."

"Thank you, professor," Sam laughed, but made no move to draw his hand back. "Does that mean the lesson is over?"

"Yes, for today," Dean grinned and carefully untangled his hand from Sam's. The other boy tried not to be disappointed by it.

"Can I get you anything else, boys?" the waitress asked as she cleared their plates.

"No, thanks, we're leaving actually," Dean smiled at her and she went to retrieve the bill. "By the way, you're paying," he told Sam matter-of-factly.

"I thought this wasn't a date," Sam raised an eyebrow questioningly.

"It wasn't, but nobody tutors for free," Dean grinned.

Sam sighed and rolled his eyes, but paid the bill anyway. The waitress's gaze flicked between them for a few moments and then she hurried to her co-worker behind the counter. Sam could've sworn that when they walked by to get to the door, he could hear the girls cooing.

"So, is this the part where I walk you home?" Sam asked lightly. His hand was itching to grab Dean's, so he stuffed his hands to the pocket of his jeans. He had to keep reminding himself that this wasn't a date.

Dean laughed, but said nothing and just started walking in their direction.

When they reached the door to their room, Sam held it open for Dean, who rolled his eyes, but walked inside anyway.

"I thought I said the lesson was over," he turned to Sam. "But since you obviously wanna do this properly," he took a step closer. "I didn't get my goodbye kiss," he blinked up innocently.

"W-what?" Sam could hear his heart started pumping faster. Did Dean really just say he wanted another kiss?

"Come on, Sam. Kiss me," Dean grinned.

Sam took a tentative step closer. Dean was within his arm-reach now. He took another half step. Dean's grin turned into an encouraging smile, but other than inkling his head; he'd made no move to initiate the kiss.

Sam took a deep breath that did nothing to calm him down. He could feel his hands sweating and he closed his eyes, but then he realized he didn't know where to aim, so he opened them. Dean was looking at him with an amused expression.

"Sam, it's just a kiss. You didn't do too badly, when it was your first and you were drunk. I'm sure it'll be fine. And even if it wasn't, it won't matter."

"Yeah," Sam breathed out, to convince himself. "Yeah, okay."

And with that, he leaned in.

It was kind of awkward. He bumped Dean's cheek with his nose, he didn't know how to give Dean a sign to open up his mouth and the older boy made no effort to do it himself. And he had no idea whatsoever as to what to do with his hands, so he let them hang loose and that was _really _awkward. After a minute of lips sliding against each other he pulled away slightly, just enough to look into Dean's eyes.

Dean started opening his mouth to speak and from the amused glint in his eyes and the way the left corner of his mouth twitched Sam knew, he'd make this into a joke. And that was not what Sam wanted. He wanted to hear Dean say he did a good job. That he learned fast. He wanted Dean to _like_ the kiss.

Dean's eyes only had a chance to widen in surprise, before Sam pressed his lips against Dean's once more. This time it was more forceful and Sam managed to make Dean back up two steps, which was enough to press him against the wall.

Sam scanned his memory frantically to figure out the right way to do this, but the details were washed away with the alcohol, so he reacted on instinct.

He put his hands on Dean's hips, moulding their bodies together and opened his mouth to deepen the kiss. Dean wrapped his arms around his neck and ran his fingers through his hair. The soft massaging of his skull felt good. Dean's lips were soft and pliant under his and he responded to Sam's tries to deepen the kiss in kind, but still let the taller one of them be in control.

Tentatively, Sam decided to push his luck and buried his tongue in the wet heat of Dean's mouth. The older boy tasted after the coke he'd had with the dinner and something uniquely his. Sam wondered briefly what did _he_ taste like and if Dean liked the way he tasted, but then Dean shifted his hips and brushed against Sam's crotch and all coherent thoughts flew right out of Sam's mind.

His lungs were sending S.O.S signals to his brain, because they were in a serious need of oxygen, but Sam ignored it as long as he could, because once he pulled away to take a breath, it would be it. And he didn't want this to be over just yet.

When he finally broke off the kiss and took in the sight of Dean, he was pleasantly surprised to find the senior panting as hard as he did. The thought that he'd just kiss his roommate breathless occurred to him, but he didn't voice it.

Dean was looking just gorgeous with his kiss swollen lips and slightly rumpled clothes. And Sam was the one to do it. He felt proud of himself.

"I take it back," Dean sighed, when he regained his composure. "Today was definitely a B plus," he grinned.

"B plus, huh?" Sam huffed out a laugh. "You liked it, admit it."

"Oh, I _loved_ it. Especially the finish," he winked. "But you did say 'Hi' back in the diner," he laughed and Sam had to laugh along when he remembered the moment. Who would have thought the day would end here, with Dean backed up against a wall and in Sam's arms? "I couldn't give you a higher note even if you'd give me the best blowjob of my life right now," Dean added.

Sam swallowed against the lump in his throat that suddenly threatened to choke him. He knew that Dean meant what he said as nothing more but a joke, but Sam still grew a little uneasy. Was that what Dean had planned for their next lesson? Did he expect Sam to go down on him? Sam started feeling nauseous at that thought, but what scared him the most that he was almost sure he knew the answer to the question 'Should it come down to it, would Sam be able to tell Dean no?'. And it wasn't yes.

Dean seemed to notice something was off and he narrowed his slightly darkened eyes at Sam.

"Would you want that, Sam?" he growled with a voice dropped down an octave. "Would you want to end the date on your knees, convincing the guy you're worth the effort?"

He moved his hands from Sam's hair to the younger guy's shoulders and used them to switch their position, so that it was Sam with his back to the wall now.

"Do you even know how to do it?"

"I,uh, I know the theory," Sam choked out.

All the alarms were going off in Sam's head. No, he didn't want to do this, not yet. It was all too fast too soon. But what if he said that to Dean? Would that mean the end of their friendship? He was sure he must have looked just as terrified as he felt. He felt his lower lip start to tremble and he could completely relate now to the poor deer caught in headlights.

He felt Dean's hand on his cheek and tried to focus on the older boy's face. Dean was looking at him with a soft, almost fond look in his eyes.

"Shhh," he hushed Sam while stroking his cheek with his thumb. "It's okay, Sam. Take a breath. Let me take care of you."

Sam did as asked and closed his eyes when Dean leaned in to kiss him. He expected another full on the mouth kiss, but he got just a peck on the lips instead and then Dean's mouth was at his ear.

"You don't have to do anything," he heard his friend whisper. "Don't _ever_ do anything you don't want. If anyone tries to force you, they're not worth it. Remember that," and with that he pulled away a little.

Sam didn't dare to open his eyes just yet.

"Dude, seriously, chill," he heard Dean chuckle. "I can hear your heart beating over here."

Sam's face had only a short time to colour in embarrassment and then Dean's mouth was at his once again.

The kiss had the desired effect on Sam. He felt his heartbeat even out and he even put his hands on Dean's face. This time it was Dean who licked into Sam's mouth and sucked on his lips.

The senior pulled away and rested his forehead against Sam's.

"You know, there are two ways to go about a blowjob," Dean continued in a hushed whisper, as though the major breakdown Sam just almost had didn't happen. "You can either be the one on your knees," he said, sliding his hands down Sam's chest and stomach and stopping at the fly of his jeans. "Or you can be the one with the pants down," he said and then suddenly he was out of the line of Sam's vision.

Sam looked down when he felt the zipper of his pants being pulled down. The senior was working his jeans down to his ankles. Sam's breath started coming out in harsh pants, but this time it was for far different reasons than a panic attack.

Dean ran his hands up his thighs and then hooked the fingers in the waistband of Sam's boxers. The freshman was never more grateful that he'd put on a regular black instead of the funny ones with animals on it that he'd gotten from his mom on Christmas.

Dean pulled the boxers down and Sam's dick sprung free, already hard. Sam had no idea when that happened.

"Whoa," Dean said. "Little Sam's not so little," he chuckled.

The warm puff of breath against the sensitive skin of his cock sent shivers down Sam's spine.

"Pay close attention, class," Dean murmured against the skin of his thighs as he nuzzled it. "This is probably the only lesson you'll actually use in life."

Sam wanted to laugh at that, but Dean chose that exact moment to close his lips around the head of his cock, so instead Sam let out a guttural sound. His head connected hard with the wall and his eyes rolled back into his head as Dean started sucking.

"Oh my god," Sam breathed out and moaned again.

"Shshsh," Dean whispered around the mouthful of Sam's cock and the taller boy's knees didn't give out only thanks to some miracle.

He felt Dean's tongue press flat on the underside of his dick as he moved up and down. It was the best feeling in the world. The searing heat was setting his whole body aflame and he could feel the orgasm being sucked out of his body, literally. He knew he wouldn't last long.

He looked down at his friend, on his knees, pretty pink lips stretched around his cock and cheeks hollowed. The big green eyes blinked up at him and that was all Sam could withstand. He threw his head back and cried out as he felt the spasm shake his whole body. Even though he could feel his balls draw up and shoot their entire load out, the wet heat of Dean's mouth never left his cock. _Jesus Christ he's swallowing!_ went through his mind and then his vision whitened with the strength of the second orgasm's wave.

This time his knees did give out. He could feel himself sliding down the wall and when his head stopped spinning, he opened his eyes again.

He was looking right into Dean Winchester's cheery face.

"You doing okay, there?"

All Sam could do was nod.

"Dude, that good?" Dean laughed. "You really are a boost for one's self confidence, you know that?"

"I, uh," Sam hoarsed out, cleared his throat and tried again. "Thank you. That was...wow."

"Don't make me blush," Dean laughed and stood up. He held out his hand and helped Sam up as well. "You should probably take a shower. You look like you've been run over by a truck," Dean chuckled.

"Um, uh yeah, I'll do that," Sam stuttered and disappeared in the bathroom. "Smooth," he glared at his own reflection.

He really looked funny. Dishevelled hair, standing in all directions, pupils blown wide like he'd just had a joint and rumpled clothes, the button of his jeans still undone. He poured some cold water on his face, but it did nothing to clear the fog in his brain.

Later in the shower, he realized that the weird high-on feeling wasn't sleepiness or leftover adrenalin from the panic or nervousness, but that it was the blissed out moment after his first orgasm induced by someone else.

Sam couldn't wait for the next lesson.


	5. Chapter 5

**Hey, dearies! Guess what? Yes, the new F&S chapter is up! Exciting, I know! Sit back and enjoy the show. And leave a review!**

**Thank you Tracy, for your help with this chapter.**

* * *

**Chapter 5**

Dean realized he was awake. He didn't like that one bit. His head was still flooded with images from a particularly pleasant dream, though whenever he tried to focus on them, they dissipated from his memory. So he gave up and sat up in his bed, but groaned loudly to let whatever woke him up know how displeased he was.

As it turned out, it was his roommate who was gathering himself up from the floor, the things that were originally on his desk scattered all around him. That picture made absolutely no sense to still sleepy Dean.

"Sam?" he mumbled, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

"Shit, did I wake you up? I'm sorry. I tripped and fell," Sam winced.

Dean got out of his bed and crouched next to Sam.

"You okay?" he frowned.

"Yeah, but my desk isn't," Sam sighed.

"Really," Dean rolled his eyes. "You fall down and all you care about is whether the _papers_ got hurt?"

"Aww, you are worried about me," Sam pinched his cheek. "That's cute."

"You did _not_ just call me cute," Dean growled.

"I totally did," Sam grinned.

"I'm too tired for this shit," Dean stood up, leaving Sam to deal with his papers and went to use the bathroom.

The flirting had become something natural for them, whenever they were alone. Dean didn't even think about it. It didn't mean they were an item; they were just that comfortable around each other. And Dean told himself it was good for Sam's dating skills.

Just when he rinsed the toothpaste out of his mouth, strong long arms circled around his torso and he found himself pressed against Sam's broad shirtless chest. The freshman didn't quite hug him, though; he just put the paste on his toothbrush and began to brush his teeth.

Yeah, the touching was something natural for them as well. Even though they didn't take it any further with the sexual stuff, apart from one mutual handjob, they just couldn't keep their hands to themselves so to speak.

Dean turned around and reached on the shelf behind Sam for his shaving cream and razor. He lost himself for a moment in the hazel depths of Sam's eyes and thank god for the toothbrush in his friend's mouth or he would have kissed him.

Oddly enough, kissing didn't become natural to them at all. And that was quite a shame if you asked Dean, because the kid was on his way to become a good kisser, excellent even.

As Dean put the foam on his face, he 'accidentally' smeared some on Sam's face and laughed on the scowl that appeared on the freshman's face.

"Dude," Sam exclaimed. "I just washed my face!"

He made a move to wash the cream away from his chin, but Dean's hand stopped him.

"I think you need a shave, Sam," he said seriously.

Sam just laughed and tried to push Dean out of the way, but the older boy was persistent.

"You're serious about this," the taller rolled his eyes, when Dean started putting the cream on his face with firm strokes. "I'm gonna be late for class!" he complained.

"Well, the sooner you stop squirming, the faster I'll be able to do this," Dean grinned.

He grabbed his own razor and ever so gently started to scrape the foam off his friend's face, trying to be extra careful when he reached the skin between his mouth and nose.

He would have to be blind not to notice the way Sam's eyes darkened and his breath started coming out faster and harsher. He leaned in closer very, very slowly, so that Sam had no idea he was doing it until he was already too close.

"Maybe I should have warned you," Dean whispered into Sam's ear. "It's the same razor I use on my balls."

The younger guy gulped audibly and his pupils widened. Dean grinned, pleased with the power he held over his roommate.

"The fact that it just turned you on tells me things about you, Sam," the senior chuckled.

"It didn't," Sam looked away sheepishly, blushing adorably in a strong contrast to the white foam that Dean'd been slowly shaving off him.

"It didn't, huh?" Dean slid his free hand across Sam's stiff groin, causing the younger man to whimper.

"Shh," he soothed, when his friend started opening his mouth, probably to defend himself. "'S okay," he smiled and finished last stroke with the razor.

He soaked a cloth with Sam's aftershave and cleaned his now hairless face with it. Then he dried him off with a towel, his eyes never leaving Sam's. The younger man watched him with something close to awe. His lips were slightly parted and all Dean had to do was lean in and kiss them. He was positive the freshman would have let him.

But kissing was just...to intimate, even for the two of them and Dean didn't want to give Sam any wrong impressions about where they stood. God knew it might have been too late as it was.

He brushed the other boy's chin with his nose and breathed in deeply.

"Mmm, smells good," he hummed approvingly. "There," he patted Sam's shoulder. "You're good to go."

Sam swallowed and blinked a couple of times.

"I, arrgh, I will, uhm," he tried to speak as he backed away from Dean. "I'll go to class now," and he quickly disappeared from the bathroom.

Dean stayed inside the whole time the freshman was putting his clothes on and when he finally heard the slam of the door, he freed himself from the boxers that were trapping his flush and swollen cock. He had no idea when that happened or why he didn't feel it happening, but he needed a date with his right hand right. The fuck. Now.

-xXx-

Sam was desperately searching his head for images that would help him subside the hard-on he was sporting in his pants. Fortunately, he remembered that he was just about to have a class with Elephant and that thought alone was enough to make his cock go soft.

He spotted Jess waving at him from across the room the moment he walked in. She motioned for him to come over.

"I saved you a seat," she beamed at him, when he did.

"That's so nice of you, thanks," Sam couldn't help but smile back. No one had ever saved a seat for him before.

"Us smart ones should stick together, right?" she winked at him and smacked his arm playfully.

Sam laughed at that, but didn't argue.

The lesson went by incredibly slowly and Elephant was being his usual asshole-self, but at least his focus wasn't aimed at Sam this time. Some poor guy in the back row drew the short straw this time.

When Elephant finally decided he'd terrorized them enough for today and left, Jess tapped Sam's shoulder to get his attention.

"Are you free now?"

"Yeah, I have a two hours window between classes," Sam answered.

"Would you want to, uhm," she coughed and her hair fell into her face. "Maybe sit down for a coffee?"

"You mean for the tutoring?" Sam asked.

"Err, yeah. Yes, for the tutoring. Would you mind?" she smiled.

"No, not at all," he smiled back.

When they entered the student's café, Sam's eyes fell on Matt and Tess, sitting by a table for two. Yeah, not-a-couple Sam's ass.

"No comments, Sasquatch," Tess glared at him, when she'd noticed him staring.

Sasquatch was a nickname the group of Dean's friends started to use, because he was taller than them, even though they were all four years older. Sam had only been called things like _nerd _and _Samantha, _so he was more than okay with it.

He grinned at the two friends and turned around to Jess, surprised to find her frowning and burning holes into the side of Tess's face with her eyes.

Sam tried to figure out what had triggered Jess's mood this time. He briefly wondered if maybe she was some crazy person who thought she had a monopole on Sam's time, but then again when a couple of girls from his class asked Sam about something school-related earlier, she hadn't had that look on her face. In fact, she was nice to them and helped with the explaining.

"That's Tess and Matt," he motioned towards their table. "My friends who are," he put his hand to his mouth and shouted "definitely not on a date."

Matt threw a biscuit that he got with his coffee at him. Sam dodged it easily and laughed.

"Friends?" Jess seemed surprised, but the hostile look on her features was gone.

She raised her hand and waved at them shyly. That earned her a wave back from Matt and a questioningly raised eyebrow aimed at Sam from Tess. Maybe he should tune down the dating jokes or he was going to become a punch line to one.

"Yeah, surprising, I know, but I actually have a few," the corner of Sam's mouth tugged upwards. Cracking that joke would probably never get old for him.

"N-no, that's not-, did you think-, oh god, I didn't-," the more Jess stuttered, the heavier she blushed.

"Hey, I was just joking," Sam took a pity on her.

They ordered their coffees and Jess insisted on paying for them this time, since he paid for the both of them the day they met. The girl behind the counter shot him a dirty look when she accepted the change from Jess.

They sat down and talked for a bit and Sam noticed that Jess was avoiding the subject of tutoring altogether, like maybe she was embarrassed. But he enjoyed talking to her, so he decided not to push it.

When she'd excused herself to go to the bathroom, his thoughts went to his roommate, more specifically, this morning.

He knew they weren't exactly _dating_, but they were definitely doing _something_ and this _something_ was doing things to Sam. Like the fluttering in his stomach, when Dean brushed his nose against his chin. Or the way his cock was going from flaccid to rock-hard in a record time, whenever Dean touched him. It was maddening.

Sure, Dean still went to parties and he still came back late and Sam wasn't that naive to think he hadn't fooled with anyone in the bathrooms –he'd seen him come out followed by a giggly girl himself after all – but he never brought them back to their room anymore and that had to mean something, right?

Except it probably didn't mean anything at all.

This was frustrating as hell if Sam should be honest. Maybe he just got too used to Dean's touches and now the senior hadn't touched him in _days_, only teasing. And if Sam knew how to do it, he'd pick up someone else to take care of his needs.

Yeah, as if.

Sam realized that he was a complete mess. His emotions were all over the place and he didn't know anymore what or how he felt with Dean and the little 'tutoring' they had going. Maybe they should stop? Sam was certain that if he asked, Dean would have just laid off. Which was probably the main reason he wasn't going to ask. He sighed deeply. Wasn't it better when nobody was interested enough in him to mess with his head like this?

By the time Jess returned and sat back to her chair, Sam came to the realization that if he wanted to figure this out, he had to find out where he and Dean stood first.

-xXx-

Dean knew exactly where he stood with Sam.

He was his guidance, a teacher and he was responsible that Sam got everything right, before he was let out into the world full of sharks wanting to take a bite at him – because honestly, who wouldn't want a piece of that – and that was all there was. No feelings, no attachments, no harm done.

At least that was what he was telling himself as he was adjusting his hair in front of the mirror. He was getting ready for a birthday party for a couple of his classmates.

The problem with being Sam's sex teacher was that the kid was incredibly hot. Someone might ask, why that was a problem. Well, the problem was that Dean wanted to actually have sex with the kid. Like literally fuck his brains out and preferably not just once.

But Sam wasn't quite ready yet, in fact, he wasn't even remotely there. And the last thing Dean was willing to do, was to push him into something he didn't really want. He could probably break Sam to say yes, but he wouldn't. Despite what people might say, Dean was actually a nice guy deep inside. The people who knew him well, knew that the heartbreaker, cocky and self-assured Dean was just an image. But not even they knew, what made him hide behind that mask.

He knew what it was like to be used and treated like garbage, but still clinging to used-to-be's and might-have-been's and hoping that the person you gave your heart and body up for was going to miraculously change back into the one you'd fallen for, even though you suspected that person was never real to begin with.

He spent too long on the emotional rollercoaster that was his first and only relationship with another guy. He'd had his share of girlfriends before him, but after everything his ex-boyfriend put him through, he guarded carefully the bits and pieces of his heart he still had left. He knew he never fully recovered from the break up. Well, not exactly a break up, more like a run away. And just like said ex-boyfriend always said, Dean didn't make a good boyfriend material. Oh yeah, the bastard loved stomping at Dean's self-esteem saying shit like that. And Dean carried with himself only every single one of them.

He shook his head to clear his mind. He hated that after all these years, _he_ was still able to get to him like that. He was more than happy to never have to see _him_ again.

That was another reason he wanted to help Sam. He truly cared about that kid. He could see himself in him, insecure, naive and shy. The perfect prey. There were tons of guys out there that could and would make a number on the boy, given the chance. And Dean didn't want them to have that chance. A shrink might say that Dean was trying to save himself by saving Sam. And so what if that was true? That didn't make his intentions any less pure.

And he definitely didn't want to be the guy to hurt Sam either. He knew there was a thin line between sex and feelings, especially for people like Sam, so finding a guy for a one-night-stand might probably serve for setting the boundaries straight, as well. Dean never lied about what their whole ordeal was about, but a reminder couldn't hurt. Plus his dick had been really aching to be buried in something tight and hot.

It was absolutely not cheating, because he and Sam were nothing more than roommates with benefits. And very small benefits, at least so far, if you asked Dean. There was something warm and endearing in the slow speed they took things with Sam, but a guy has his needs.

He still left a note on Sam's nightstand, though, just to clear his conscience. The weird feeling he had about this in his gut changed only slightly after that.

He wasn't thinking about Sam when he'd left that room and met with Ben and Jim to enter the party. He still wasn't thinking about him as he noticed the guy checking him out. And he most definitely wasn't thinking about him, when he let the guy pull him in for a kiss in the shadows of the corner of the room.

-xXx-

Sam returned early that evening from his tutoring session with Jessica. They did eventually get to the tutoring part. Sam thought Jess was being too hard on herself, because as far as he could tell, she was comprehending the stuff just fine, but she insisted she had to get better. And who was Sam to deny her that.

His eyes fell on the note on his nightstand. For some reason, Dean's habit of leaving notes around the room never ceased to make Sam smile. This time was no different.

_Going to a party._

_You might wanna consider leaving the room tonight._

_Don't wait up ;)_

_-D. _

The smile faltered and disappeared from Sam's face. But really, what was he expecting? An invitation to a romantic dinner? At least Dean was decent enough to give him a warning.

He sat down on his bed heavily and threw away the crumpled note. He was almost certain the slight ache in his chest was something comparable to a broken heart and that was a terrifying realization. It was never supposed to be about love with Dean and obviously, it never was, not for the senior at least.

But Sam couldn't really get mad at his roommate, because it wasn't his fault that Sam had latched onto the first boy that had shown him any kind of affection. Dean had never lied about this; he'd never said they were exclusive or that they were even _anything_. And Sam knew that they weren't. So if his chest felt a little achy right now, it was his own goddamn fault.

His first reaction was to flee the room and not come back until tomorrow afternoon, but then he decided against it. To his own surprise, it wasn't so much that he had nowhere to go, but he wanted to show his friend that this changed nothing between them. It was probably stupid to think that Dean did this to test him – he probably just wanted to get laid, which was something Sam couldn't give him – but he still wanted to prove that he understood the conditions of their non-relationship and that he was fine with them.

That the reality was something completely different was none of his roommate's concern.

Sam tried to distract himself with studying, but it worked only partially. He even went so far that he started texting with Jess. When she picked up on his bad mood, though, he'd quickly cut it off before she started asking questions, telling her he had to go to sleep.

Sleeping didn't really work for him either, not that it was very surprising. There was a fleeting chance that he could sleep through whatever Dean was going to be doing, but that never happened before, so why should it happen now.

It was already dark outside and Dean could come through that door any minute now, so Sam devoted the time he had left trying to getting himself ready.

Surprisingly, it wasn't that hard, once he accepted that his roommate was entitled to have his needs met. Plus, this part Sam was fairly used to. And whoever was going to come through that door with Dean would be gone by tomorrow morning and it would be just the two of them again. Not that there actually _was_ any Sam-and-Dean. But hey, a guy can dream, right?

There was a fumbling with the handle and then the door opened. Sam was facing the wall and pretending to be peacefully asleep, just like all those times before.

The door slammed and he heard Dean hush the other person between chuckles. Sam's eyes shot open when he realized that there were _two_ male voices. Dean brought back a guy! Well, that was a first. Maybe Sam was right and this really was another lesson after all.

Sam really had zero experiences when it came to sex between two men. He tried watching gay porn once, but he had to turn it off. It left him horrified and glad he didn't have a boyfriend at that time.

While he was musing, the two men made their way to Dean's bed and the mattress squeaked under the weight. There were grunts and groans and the distinct sound of kissing.

Sam really tried to detach himself from the situation, just get through it sometimes, but his highly unhelpful mind kept supplying him with pictures of Dean's hands on his skin. It even got to the point, when he could _feel_ it.

"Jesus, Winchester, your _mouth_," the guy panted and fell back on the pillows.

The smacking sound of sucking was unmistakable. Sam's mind went back to the time when Dean was on his knees, his full, pink lips wrapped around Sam's cock. The said organ was aching so badly that Sam had to rub against the mattress to find at least some relief.

As it turned out, the guy was a talker.

"Holy fuck, Dean, that's so – _yes – _God, had I known sooner what a magic your pretty little mouth is, I would have – _Jesus_," he panted.

Sam felt like it was _him_ who was getting a head. His body was on fire, the desire coursing through his veins like a sickness that had to be rubbed out. Except, he couldn't do anything as obvious if he didn't want to draw attention upon himself.

He felt a moan bubble up from the inside of his chest, so he bit down on his bottom lip to prevent it from coming out. What came out was a quiet keening sound and for a second, Sam stopped breathing, hoping the other two men in the room didn't hear anything.

"What was that," Guy asked.

"What was what?" asked Dean, his voice a little hoarse.

"I swear I heard someone," Guy whispered.

Sam wondered if he would become invisible if he'd wish for it hard enough.

"Was probably just a cat," Dean murmured. "You wanna get on with the program or you'd rather go out and chase ghosts?" he chuckled.

"Stupid question," Guy mumbled and then there was a sound of rustling sheets and the nightstand's shelf being opened.

Sam quietly sneaked a hand into his pants and squeezed the base of his cock hard to prevent himself from hardening any further, because he wasn't sure how much of this torture he was able to take anymore. At one point, he found himself seriously considering throwing Guy out of Dean's bed and getting fucked himself. Hell, right now he would have probably even gone for a threesome.

He heard the sound of a lube being squirmed and then it was Dean who spoke.

"Look at you," he said in a low, husky tone. "Taking my fingers like a champ. You're no stranger to this, are you?"

_Holyfuckingshit_, Dean's voice was doing _things_ to Sam. It was making him want to throw the covers back and yell at the top of his lungs and pump his own cock while having sex with Dean, all at once. It was better, when Guy did the talking. At least then, Sam only had to deal with images.

Guy gave a sharp cry and Sam heard the wrapper of a condom being torn off.

"That's right, let it out," he kept talking. "The spot right there?" Another broken cry came out of Guy's mouth. "After I'm through with you, you're gonna beg me to let you come."

"Jesus."

For a moment, Sam was terrified that he'd spoken aloud, but fortunately, it was the guy that voiced the word on his mind.

Sam tilted his head a little and stuffed the corner of his blanket into his mouth. He wasn't going to risk it.

"You ready?" Dean asked.

_God yes, yes I'm ready, do it, do _something_!_ Sam's mind screamed.

"Yes."

When he heard the slam of skin on skin, as Dean hit home, it was too late to realize that he really wasn't.

God bless the loudness of Guy's moans, because Sam was positive he couldn't keep all the sounds inside, even though his jaw ached from biting into the comforter too hard.

He decided to rely on the fact that they were both too caught up in what they were doing to notice and started stroking his already leaking cock.

"Oh no, you don't," he heard the sound of a hand being slapped away. "You're gonna have to ask nicely," Dean said.

Sam could completely relate to the whine Guy let out.

"Come on, darling, you want to come, yes?" Dean continued in the lust-filled voice of his and Sam was too far gone to notice that he was obeying his orders as if it was _Sam_ they were directed at. "Ask nicely," Dean's voice dropped a notch lower. "Beg me for it."

_Please, oh my God, please,_ Sam was screaming on the inside so loud he didn't even hear Guy doing the same on the outside.

"Alright. Come," was all Dean said and Sam's vision turned red.

That should have been his warning, because all the other times Dean had brought him to completion ended with him seeing white. So when his breathing and heartbeat finally stopped having a dubstep party and settled down enough for him to at least think, he found out he didn't in fact cream his boxers.

His cock was flushed and begging for attention and Sam was just _this close_ to the edge, but unlike Guy, he didn't have Dean's helping hand to send him over it, so he had to wait for him to leave and for Dean to fall asleep to be able to take care of his situation in the bathroom.

"Mother of all sex gods," he heard Guy pant.

"Yeah, I know," he could picture Dean's smug grin very well.

"Sorry," Guy muttered. "I'm moving, I swear. I guess you fucked my brains out," he choked out a laugh.

"Take your time," Dean laughed back. "I'll take a shower meanwhile."

Sam closed his eyes and tried to breathe through it. He was kind of hoping Guy would leave soon, so that he could jerk off before Dean came back from his shower, but the bloody idiot was obviously too fucked out to move fast. Sam was sure Dean was that good, but he wasn't in a state when he'd be capable of sympathy.

It took Dean only ten seconds to come out of the bathroom, after the door closed behind Guy for good.

-xXx-

Tonight was one of the best in his life, Dean decided. And it had nothing, or very little at least, to do with the guy he'd brought to spend the night with.

He was more than a little tipsy when he'd agreed to take Toby - or whatever the guy's name was – here, but in the end, he was glad he had.

He hadn't even realized it until they stood outside the door, but he'd been kind of worried about Sam's reaction to this. He half-expected him to be out somewhere and to his own surprise, Dean didn't fancy that idea very much.

So when he'd opened the door, the first thing he did was check the freshman's bed. The second thing he did was crowd the guy that came here with him against the door, so that he wouldn't be aware of his roommate's presence. Somehow, he figured ProbablyToby wouldn't be thrilled.

Now that he knew –much to his relief – that he didn't have to worry about the freshman getting in trouble or being mad, he just wanted to get this over with. Seriously, he didn't need hours of passionate lovemaking; he just needed his itch to be scratched. And if anyone had told him, he'd ever think like this a few months back, he'd probably laugh his ass off.

When the guy made himself comfortable on Dean's bed and the senior slowly made his way between his legs, it felt almost like an apology. The guy was good-looking and so far not an asshole, and it wasn't his fault that to Dean he was nothing more than a means to reach a temporary relief.

When he'd heard the weak mewl coming from the other bed, he froze the same way his companion did, but instead of the terror the guy obviously felt, he felt a grin spread over his face.

So not only Sam was awake and alert for this, he clearly was interested. Dean decided to make it a little bit of a show for him. Plus, if he did his job well, the boost his reputation would receive after the guy went bragging about the awesome sex he'd had with Dean Winchester couldn't hurt.

He focused on Sam more than on the guy spread out under him, but the other didn't seem to notice. He was probably too caught up in this to even think about it, because Dean was really doing his best to make him scream. He just wasn't sure for whose benefit it was anymore.

He was watching his roommate carefully, looking for any movement. He could see him squirm a little, but nothing that would give him away and Dean was surprised by how long he was able to withstand it. Dean himself was only this close to orgasm.

When he saw Sam's hand sneak down into his boxers, he yelled "Oh no, you don't" before he remembered that it wasn't _Sam_ he was having sex with. Luckily, the odds were in his favour, because Let'scallhimToby's hand found its way around his cock as well. It made him pay more attention to his sex-buddy, though.

He came shortly after the guy and he saw Sam's body tense and then go slack, so he figured the freshman had just come as well.

Presently, he was lying in his bed, waiting for Sam to get up. He was sure his friend would, because there was no way the neat and tidy Sam Campbell was going to fall asleep with spunk in his boxers.

He figured the freshman wouldn't move until Dean was asleep, though, so that was what he'd been doing ever since he'd returned from his shower – faking sleep.

Only when the younger boy actually move did Dean realize that he had no clue what to do about it. Calling Sam on creaming his pants like a fourteen-year-old equalled admitting that he'd been paying attention.

His roommate seemed to have a bit of a problem getting up from the bed and when he walked by Dean's bed, the senior saw exactly why. That was quite a tent he was sporting.

As quietly as possible, Dean got out of his bed and pulled Sam into his chest, right before the taller could disappear in the bathroom.

The freshman jumped in his arms. His muscles relaxed almost immediately, but his heartbeat didn't.

"Shh," Dean whispered into his ear. He kept one arm around his friend's chest, while the other slowly crept its way down Sam's abdomen. "Enjoyed the little show, did we? Maybe you _do_ have a listening kink after all," Dean kept speaking in a hushed tone, making sure his lips brushed against the shell of Sam's ear.

Sam's breaths were coming out ragged and his eyes fell closed.

"Dean," he drew his name out and it sounded half like a whine and half like a plea.

"Hey," Dean spoke softly while he slowly circled Sam's lower abdomen, his fingers brushing the hem of his boxers, but not quite pushing in. "Told you I'd take care of you. All you gotta do is," he was fairly certain his grin was evil now. "Ask."

Sam's eyes shot open and the sound he made felt like he was being tortured and not pleasured. Dean knew the guy was blushing, even though he couldn't see it in the darkness of the room.

"D-Dean, I...please," he whispered weakly. "Let me come...make me, I, please," he squeezed his eyes shut and looked so mortified that Dean took pity on him and wrapped his fingers around Sam's flushed dick.

The freshman's whole body strained and his lips parted as he was breathing unevenly.

"Feels good, right?" Dean kept whispering into his ear and Sam nodded. "I bet you were thinking about what it would be like if I did all those things to you and not him. Well one day, you're gonna find out," he promised.

Sam came with a broken cry on his lips. His whole body slumped against Dean and he held the taller boy through it, because he was worried the freshman wasn't able to keep upright on his own.

When Sam came back to himself, he opened his eyes and looked right into Dean's. The older boy had a chance to see all the unguarded emotions there, mostly adoration and gratitude. For what, he had no idea, although the orgasm was most likely.

He pulled his hand out of Sam's boxers and wiped it clean with the fabric.

"Go wash yourself," he nudged his roommate in the direction of the bathroom and gave him a slap on the ass.

Sam didn't say anything and disappeared in the bathroom. Dean lay back down on his bed and he was out of it, before the freshman came out.

* * *

They didn't talk about it the next day. Dean did notice the freshman was skittish around him, though. He responded to their spoken flirting just fine, but whenever Dean tried to touch, he would all but run away.

Dean decided he had to figure out the reason behind all this.

Jim and Ben invited him to a bar to celebrate the midterms being successfully over, so Dean thought it might be a good idea to take Sam. Maybe the freshman would loosen up a little and maybe say what had been bugging him. Maybe he wasn't comfortable around Dean anymore? That would suck, but at least they could talk it out.

To his surprise, when he opened the door, Sam was sprawled on his bed and reading something. He was usually still in class around this time, but knowing the guy, he was probably studying ahead in case his lesson was dismissed.

"Hey honey, I'm home," he grinned at his roommate.

Sam just grunted an affirmative noise, too engrossed in whatever textbook he was reading to even raise his eyes.

Dean used his lack of concentration and slipped behind him on the bed, leaning his chin on Sam's shoulder.

"What are you reading?"

Predictably, the freshman nearly jumped out of his skin on the contact.

"Um, the teacher dismissed class and told us to read the next chapter in our textbook, so that's what I'm doing," he said, showing the textbook to Dean.

"Is it fun?" Dean purred into his ear. The shiver that went through the other's body didn't go unnoticed.

"It's boring, actually," Sam huffed with an eye-roll.

"Well then," Dean said, taking the book from Sam and closing it, but not before he bent a corner of the page Sam was on. "I know about something fun we could do," he wriggled his eyebrows suggestively.

"Yeah, uh, I'm sure you do," Sam stood up quickly and headed for the bathroom. "Sorry, nature calls," he grimaced apologetically.

Dean frowned. This was getting ridiculous. He got up from Sam's bed and waited for him by the door. When the freshman walked out, Dean leaned against the wall and crossed his arms over his chest.

"What is going on, Sam?" Dean asked, still frowning.

"What?" the taller boy's eyes widened in surprise. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, you've been treating me like I had leper or something the whole day," Dean pushed himself from the wall and took a step towards his roommate.

To his credit, the freshman didn't even flinch.

"I have?" Sam asked innocently, although his face looked rather guilty. "I'm sorry then, as far as I'm concerned, we're fine, really," he smiled at the older boy, but the other didn't smile back.

"Look, if you're not okay with this anymore," he waved a hand between them. "We can stop. It's okay. You just have to say something, man. Do you want to stop?"

"No!" Sam said quickly and then blushed softly.

"No?" Dean asked with much less hostility and much more concern. "What's the problem then?" he entered Sam's personal space and tucked a stray of hair behind Sam's ear, brushing his cheek softly in the process.

Sam sighed and leaned a little to the touch.

"There's," Sam swallowed. "There's no problem, really..."

That was when Dean saw it. Sam's slightly parted lips, the way his eyelids seemed heavy, but his pupils were dilating and the hazel ring around them darkened. Flush spread over Sam's neck. His whole body was reacting to Dean's close presence.

Dean spent so much time worrying that his roommate might not want him anymore that it hadn't even occurred to him that the real reason could be that he wanted him _too much_.

"Oh, I see," he grinned smugly and dragged his hand down Sam's chest agonizingly slowly. "You can't stop thinking about it, huh? Can't stop wondering what it would be like if it was _you_ underneath me last night, can you?" He was slowly reaching Sam's groin area. "How would it feel like, having my fingers buried deep inside you, fucking you open and getting you ready for my cock," he purred into Sam's ear.

His hand palmed the hard bulge in Sam's jeans. The freshman whimpered. Dean took a better look at his face. The kid looked so wrecked, almost like he was about to cry. Dean closed his eyes and let the desire wash over him. Sam was just so freaking sensitive to every kind of stimulation! Even hearing Dean's voice was enough to get him hard.

When he felt his own cock harden, he gently took Sam's hand and placed it on the hard member in his pants. Sam's eyes, even with all the dark desire and pure need in them, were so trusting, Dean wasn't sure if he deserved it.

"See?" he smiled at the freshman. "Nothing wrong with getting turned on. Hell, I'd be upset if I _wasn't_ turning you on anymore," he smirked. "I wish I could take care of it for you, but we're going out."

"What?" Sam blinked at him. "Dean, I don't really feel like partying..."

"It's not a party. Just a couple of friends hanging out in a bar." When Sam opened his mouth to protest, he added. "I wasn't asking. We're going. Now go do your business in the bathroom and get dressed," he smirked.

Sam huffed and rolled his eyes, but obeyed.

"Hey, maybe you could text Jess if she wants to come," Dean yelled after him. "Is she still hagged or did you tell her already?"

Sam grumbled under his nose something about there not being the right time for it yet.

Dean just laughed and pulled out his hair-gel to get his hair ready for the evening.

* * *

The evening was going great. Most of his classmates were there and he didn't even feel too guilty about leaving Sam on his own for most of the night, because he had Jess and there were a couple more people by their table and he seemed content.

Dean still made it a point to stop by and check on him, just in case.

He was just ordering another drink, when he felt someone stand behind him.

"Hello, Dean."

Dean's heart stopped. He was grateful he hadn't got the shot glass into his hand yet, because he was sure he would have dropped.

He thought he would never hear that voice again. He _prayed_ he wouldn't.

He felt the blood drain from his face as he slowly turned around; looking into the both loved and hated smirking face of his ex-boyfriend.

"Missed me?"


	6. Chapter 6

**Hello my dearest readers,**

**did you almost think I'd forgotten about you or this story? Hell no! I've just been really busy, college and stuff and I'm really sorry that this update took so long. It's probably only gonna get worse, though. But my dear friend and beta ****FallenAngel2487**** is a proof that I'm working on the story tirelessly. I also pass her my gratitude for helping me pull through my little block.**

**My thanks go to all of you who've commented on this story, nothing ever makes my day more than seeing the alert that someone posted a review. I'm always happy to read those and your positive feedback only makes it that much better.**

**Keep reviewing!**

* * *

**Chapter 6**

Sam was glad Dean had made him go out. It seemed the senior knew what was good for him even better than Sam himself. He was sipping some cocktail that Dean laughed at, when he passed by, saying it couldn't be any gayer, but Sam liked it so he'd just shrugged it off.

"Sam," Jess addressed him with a shy smile, pink cheeks and down-casted gaze. "I'm glad you invited me here. Thank you," she raised her eyes.

"Not at all," Sam smiled back. "I'm glad you decided to come and keep my boring ass company."

"You're not boring," she argued. "I like spending time with you," she said and if possible, turned even more pink. "Do you think, maybe," she was obviously trying to look straight at him, but her eyes kept glancing sideways. Sam frowned. "Maybe we could call this a date?" she finally looked up hopefully.

Oh.

_Oh._

Dean was never going to let him live this one down.

"Uhm, no, sorry Jess," he mumbled. "You're not really my type," he shrugged apologetically.

The colour drained from Jess's face and she just sat there for a few moments, obviously fighting back tears.

Sam's brain caught up with him and he wanted to smack himself. Jess had no way of knowing why _exactly_ she wasn't his type and the way he'd been acting with her...yeah, he could see why that might have mislead her to thinking he was interested in her like _that._ And apparently, he was an asshole if what he'd just said to her was anything to go by.

But to his defence, he didn't have much practise with people being interested in him at all, let alone having to refuse them.

He opened his mouth to explain, but by then, Jess was already at the door out, wiping angrily at her eyes with the back of her hand.

"Jess, wait!" Sam ran after her and stopped her right before she could get out.

She looked at him with red-rimmed eyes and face flushed with embarrassment.

"That's not how I meant to say that. Sorry."

She kept piercing him with an angry glare, her lips pressed into a thin line.

"When I said you weren't my type, I meant you are a girl," he hoped she wouldn't make him spell it out, but her confused blinking told him, he didn't have a choice. "I'm _gay_," he whispered, hoping that nobody would overhear them.

Her mouth formed into a silent 'O', but she didn't seem angry anymore, just taken aback. Sam hoped she wouldn't be some crazy religious or generally hating person. He'd hate to lose his best friend.

"Um, is that okay?" he asked uncertainly, tugging at her arm and leading her back to their table. "Here, sit and let me buy you a drink as an apology, please?"

She did sit and nod, but she still hadn't spoken. Then her eyes finally focused on Sam's face and she opened her mouth.

"Y-you..." she tried to say, but didn't get any further than that. She burst out laughing.

Sam watched her incredulously, but the laughing didn't stop for a while, even tears sprung from Jess's eyes. Then he frowned, because he began to think she might be laughing _at_ him.

She seemed to notice that and quickly raised her hand in a conciliatory gesture.

"Sorry," she hiccupped between laughs. "It's just...I finally have a crush on a nice, decent and lovely guy and he turns out to be gay. It's like I'm in a soap opera," she laughed again. "And," she pointed at him. "The first person to have a crush on _you_ is a girl. How is that not funny?"

Sam had to chuckle at that. He felt lighter with relief that she hadn't rejected was still doubt gnawing at him, but when he asked Jess if she really was okay with him being gay, she all but squeaked and clapped her hands, assuring him that having a gay best friend was every girl's dream.

She admitted she might need a couple of days to get over her crush completely, but she promised she would.

"Hey, I've got a plan," she announced happily. "Whenever you like a guy and you're not sure which way he swings, I'll try to hit on him for you. If he goes along, he's mine; if he doesn't, he's yours. It's a win win!" she smiled brightly. It reached her eyes, sparkling brightly now, fortunately with something else than tears and Sam didn't have the heart to say no.

"You know, there are guys who'd go with you just as well as with me," he said. His eyes automatically searched the crowd for Dean. The older guy was standing with his back towards them, talking to someone at the bar.

"Dean Winchester," Jess said thoughtfully and Sam stared at her in surprise, when he noticed her eyes flick Dean's direction and then narrow at him.

"Yeah, he's one of those guys," Sam said slowly, hoping that was what she meant.

"You're into him," she said, a small smile tugging at her lips.

Sam sputtered the drink he'd been sipping and coughed.

"What the hell are you talking about," he said, even as he could feel the blush spreading over his cheeks.

"Oh, you've got it bad," Jess grinned. "Head over heels!"

"Shut up, that's not true," Sam snapped, keeping his voice down and hoping she would do the same.

"You're a goner, boy," she laughed.

"Shut. Up."

"Does he know?" she nodded Dean's way, still grinning, but her eyes grew softer.

"No," Sam's eyes widened when he'd realized, what he'd just admitted. "Because that's not what this is. We're roommates. Friends, maybe. That's it. Now stop it."

She was still grinning evilly, but raised her hands in mock surrender and let the topic drop.

When Sam went to fetch another round of drinks for them, he casually looked around and realized he couldn't find Dean. Not that he was looking _specifically_ for him, he just happened to not be in sight and Sam happened to notice.

He left the drinks with Jess and some girls from sophomore year she was talking to and searched the bar properly. He wasn't sure why, he would most likely end up walking in on Dean making out with some guy and that wasn't a picture he wanted in his brain.

He tried not to put too much thought into it, when he couldn't find Dean anywhere, but the good mood of the evening was ruined for him and he decided to go back into his room. Hopefully, that was not where Dean took his latest conquest, as well.

He stopped in the restroom on his way, when he heard an unfamiliar voice.

"Come on, you know you want it, just like the old days."

For a moment, he considered just slowly backing out of there, but then a person stepped into his view. It was Dean.

That stopped Sam dead in his tracks. He was ready to bolt out there right then, but just as he was turning around, something made him reconsider that.

Dean seemed uncomfortable in the position, backed up against a wall and for some reason, even scared. That definitely didn't sit right with Sam, so instead of leaving the two men to their business, he stepped up.

"Everything's okay in there?" he said, looking at Dean. He wasn't sure where he'd got the guts to do this, but he was relying on Dean taking his side if necessary.

"Mind your own damn business," the other guy said.

Sam had finally the chance to look at him properly. He was slightly shorter than Dean, with short, curly dark hair and pale blue eyes. His stubbled jaw was firmly set and he seemed as hostile as his voice sounded. He wasn't unattractive, but he definitely wasn't nice.

"Yeah, everything's fine," Dean said quietly, brushing past him, not meeting his eyes.

"What the fuck is your problem?" the other guy growled at him.

"Nothing," Sam said quickly and walked out. "If he wanted to stay, he would have," he threw over his shoulder and then hurried the hell out of there.

Dean was nowhere in sight and Sam figured that this time he probably _really _went back to their room.

He saw Jess yawn and when he asked her if she wanted to call it a night, she agreed more than a little happily. So he walked her to her dorm room and then went back to theirs.

Dean was in his bed, faking sleep. Sam wasn't buying it, but he got the hint.

His quiet "Goodnight, Dean" was answered with an even quieter "Night, Sam" and then the room fell silent.

* * *

The week after their hang out in the bar started off crazy.

First, when he walked into the café they'd been meeting – because apparently, Sam had become a part of their group now – there was no one there yet, except for Julie and Tess.

They were both unusually quiet. Tess was staring into space and Julie casted worried glances sideways at her. Just as Sam was about to ask what was wrong, the bell on the cafe's door chimed and Ben, Jim and Matt strolled in.

Well, Ben and Jim strolled, Matt stopped, looking at their table. His face flushed and he mumbled something to the other two, before he all but sprinted out of the café.

"Well, that was weird," Ben commented with a raised eyebrow, as they joined the girls and Sam at the table.

Tess let out a choking nose and then ran towards the bathroom.

"That was even weirder," Jim nodded in the direction she disappeared. "What happened?" he asked the other two people who might have known the answer.

Sam shrugged, so they turned their attention to Julie who sighed deeply.

"It's something about Matt..." she trailed off, probably hoping against hope that would be enough for them.

Ben and Jim exchanged a meaningful look and then looked at her with raised eyebrows, urging her to go on.

"They, uh, had a thing yesterday," Julie said, clearly uncomfortable with unravelling Tess's story. "And when they woke up, Matt asked Tess if it was okay if they just stayed friends. Well, you can see how okay she is with that," she finished with a curt nod in Tess's direction.

"Explains why Matt hightailed out of here so fast, when he saw you," Jim said. "We're gonna have to have a word with him."

"You don't know anything," Julie hissed quickly. Then she glanced towards the restrooms. "I better go check on her," she stood up and disappeared in the ladies room.

"Well, and where's Dean?" Ben asked Sam.

"No idea," Sam shrugged. "I thought he would come in with you."

"Today's weird," Ben grimaced.

Sam couldn't help but agree. When he woke up that morning, Dean was already gone from their room. Sam figured he had gone to meet up with his buddies sooner, or maybe he had some business to errand. It wasn't all that uncommon that they didn't always meet everybody in the café, hell Sam himself had morning classes twice a week, but Dean wasn't one to skip on it without explanation.

"Maybe he had something better to do?" he offered.

"Or someone," Jim added and they both laughed.

Sam laughed along, but it was so fake he was surprised that the others couldn't tell.

The crisis between Matt and Tess caused the friends to abandon their usual morning meetings, because one would never come close if the other was in the café. Tess grew from sad and weepy to angry and cranky and Matt was too proud to talk about it. At least that was what Jim and Ben said; Sam wasn't in a position to talk to either of them about their personal issues.

The next couple of days he was swamped with homework and in his free time, he had to fend off Jess's attempts to get him to 'meet someone new'. He said he wasn't looking for a boyfriend now, but he resolutely denied her accusations that he was just waiting for Dean.

Speaking of the senior, he'd been unusually quiet these past few days. He'd been waking up early – which alone was enough to raise suspicion – and going to bed late – nothing suspicious about that. He never brought anyone back, but he always smelled of cheap bars, diners, and someone else's cologne.

He seemed to grow paler, thinner and more tired every day and Sam couldn't help but worry if everything was alright.

He was also pretty obviously avoiding Sam.

Sam tried to strike up conversation a few times and Dean never outright rejected him, but it wasn't the easy friendly banter as before. Sam stopped trying, but the less time they spent talking, the more time he spent wondering what was wrong.

He kept going back to the night in the bar, when he interrupted Dean and some stranger in the bathroom. Maybe he read the situation wrong. Maybe Dean took the men there on his own will and wanted to have his way with him and Sam just strolled in and interfered.

Maybe he was more _hoping _that Dean didn't want to be there than actually _seeing_ it in his face. And Dean had probably figured Sam's feelings thanks to that little escapade and that was why he was avoiding him now.

"Hey man, is everything alright?" Sam tried digging the truth out of Dean once, when the other boy just sat on his bed with his textbook spread in front of him, seemingly zoned out.

Dean almost jumped out of his skin, startled by Sam's hand on his shoulder.

"Wh-what? Yes, yes of course. I'm fine. Why?" he blinked and squirmed uncomfortably because of Sam's close proximity.

Sam took a step back, trying hard to ignore the sharp stab of hurt.

"Dude, seriously, you look like death. You know you can talk to me, right? We're friends," Sam intentionally emphasized the word _friends_ to assure Dean that it's all he ever wanted to be. However untrue that may be.

He also wasn't lying, when he'd said Dean looked terrible. He did. There were dark circles under his eyes as though he hadn't slept in days – which he probably hadn't, not properly at least – his cheeks and chin were angry red from the constant shaving, because Dean was now shaving _at least_ once a day and over all, he looked sick.

When he focused his eyes on Sam, the younger boy had the chance to notice that the light was gone from them. There was no sparkle, no mischief, no joy. Just a blank look. It scared Sam a bit.

"Nothing's wrong, really," he gave Sam a smile that did nothing to improve his looks. "No need to worry."

Sam let the topic drop. Whatever was bothering his roommate, he obviously didn't want to share and Sam wasn't going to impose himself on Dean.

But that didn't mean that he could just turn the _worry_ button off. He started observing Dean from distance and he didn't like what he saw.

Dean was acting strange. He kept getting weird texts and phone calls that always made his face fall and usually not too long after that he walked out of their room, dressed for a party, but Sam knew for a fact that he didn't go out with his buddies as much anymore. In fact, he'd only been out with them once this week. Even Sam went out with Ben, Jim and the rest of them three nights, how fucked up was that?

* * *

"Hey, I might know something," Jess said one day, the moment Sam sat down on the chair next to her. "You're not gonna like it, though."

Sam shared his concern with Jess one day, when she'd noticed he wasn't paying attention to anything she said for the third time, too caught up in his own head and she'd promised to try help finding out anything helpful as to what Dean's problem was.

That was why Sam instantly knew that she knew something about Dean and he was also sure he indeed wouldn't like it.

"What is it?" he asked.

"There's a rumour that he's been seen with the same guy on different nights in different places," she bit her bottom lip and squeezed his hand. "I'm sorry Sam, but I think Dean's got a boyfriend."

Sam really tried to brace himself for the information. He was expecting anything from Dean's health issues to possible drug use, but this kind of knocked his breath out of him.

"But hey, not a word from Jenny and Ginny about this yet, so until then, it's just a plain rumour, right?" Jess tried to smile at him reassuringly, but he couldn't find it in himself to even pretend to smile back.

Sam shouldn't be surprised, really. Dean was a drop dead gorgeous, funny and smart young man; it was only a matter of time before he found himself a girl- or a boyfriend. And it would be stupid to think that Sam even remotely stood a chance, because he was nothing like his older friend.

Still, the sudden change of attitude wasn't really implying Dean ignoring Sam because of the bliss of a new relationship. Something wasn't right here. Sam felt bad for trying to work around Dean and find intel somewhere else, but it was the senior's own damn fault for not sharing with Sam.

Sam blinked at Jess, when his best friend shook his shoulder.

"Wake up, class is over," she smirked at him.

"Hey Jess," he said when they were walking out of the lecture hall. "It's not the boyfriend thing."

She gave him somewhat sympathetic look, like she thought he was just deluding himself.

"He's not happy," Sam explained.

The look didn't quite disappear from her features, but she nodded and said. "I'll keep looking."

* * *

Dean returned drunk late that night.

His stumbling and fumbling would have woken Sam up, had he actually slept and not worried where Dean was and who was he with.

Sam got up from his bed to help Dean get to his own bed, because the senior seemed incapable of doing so himself.

"Christ, Dean, you reek like the seediest place in California. What the hell were you doing?"

"Oops," the shorter man whispered, while being manhandled to the bed. "We woke up Sam," he slurred and then broke into giggles.

"Who's 'we'?" Sam frowned.

"Me and the other Dean," Dean pointed at his chest as though that made perfect sense.

"What?" Sam frowned deeper.

"Never mind," Dean dismissed it with a wave.

Then he curled his fingers in Sam's sleeping t-shirt and pulled him closer.

"I've missed you," he murmured and nuzzled Sam's neck.

"You're drunk, Dean," Sam said, not really sure if he was trying to reason with Dean or himself. He missed him too, after all.

"Oh, shut up," Dean whined and turned them around, throwing Sam on his bed. It was a hell of a move for someone this drunk if you asked Sam.

Dean collapsed into his lap and slanted his mouth over Sam's. For a few breaths, Sam just closed his eyes and let himself be kissed and touched, just like he'd been craving for over a week. The bitter taste of alcohol on Dean's tongue soon returned him into reality and he pushed the older boy away from him.

"No, Dean, not like this. I don't want to do this," he said, admiring himself for the strength this took out of him and walked back to his own bed.

Dean wasn't able to hold his balance with the way he was intoxicated, so the shove Sam gave him sent him right on his ass. As Sam walked by him, he tried to grab his ankles.

"No, Sam, wait," he almost made Sam fall down, but the taller boy managed to pry himself free. "S-Sam, please."

The sound in Dean's voice made Sam stop and turn around. He was determined to ignore Dean's drunken attempts to get him into his bed, because he didn't think he could stand being ignored the next morning and pretend nothing happened. But there was a sense of desperation in Dean's voice, like he was calling out for help and _that _Sam couldn't ignore.

Dean was sitting on the floor, looking up at Sam with huge watery eyes and Sam felt awful. Like he'd just killed a puppy and the ghost of that puppy came back and asked him _why_. Dean looked like a little boy, so lost and confused and when he opened his mouth, as if to say something, Sam hoped that maybe he would finally tell him what was going on. But then Dean closed his mouth again and looked away.

"Okay," he whispered, gathering himself up and climbing into his bed. "Okay," he repeated and curled up on himself, on the further edge of his bed.

Sam stood very still, not daring to breathe, let alone move. Dean's breaths were shallow and laboured, but he couldn't tell if he was crying or just snoring that way, because of being drunk.

He walked towards his roommate's bed and set on the edge of the mattress. He felt guilty, even though he wasn't quite sure what he'd done.

"Dean..." he said softly and put his hand on the other boy's shoulder, rubbing soothing circles with his thumb, because he couldn't think of anything else to do.

The sound Dean let out was positively a sob. Sam quickly pressed himself to Dean's back and wrapped one of his arms around the shorter boy's waist.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to push you away like that, I just-"

"I don't want to be alone," Dean interrupted him, turned around in Sam's arms and pressed his face into the crook of Sam's neck.

"Hey, you're not," Sam tried to be as reassuring as he could. Dean was finally opening up, but it didn't make much sense to him. "You're not alone, okay?"

"No one ever chooses _me_," Dean murmured against Sam's skin.

The younger boy was almost ashamed of the shivers that it sent through his body. He asked Dean what he meant by that, but his friend was already snoring softly, peacefully asleep.

-xXx-

Dean woke up first in the morning and he freaked out.

He shot out of his bed, untangling himself from Sam and probably waking his friend up in the process, so he quickly escaped to the bathroom.

There in the shower, under the unforgiving, yet merciful, steady stream of hot water he fought against tears – as every morning for the past two weeks.

Every time he woke up, he always had a few moments of the content feeling right before reality came back crashing in. It got harder every time.

Mark was back.

Mark had somehow found him and now he was back, ruining Dean's life just like all those years ago. And Dean was too weak to do anything about it.

He just let the heartless son a of a bitch stroll back into his life with a lazy smile and "I got a job as a janitor here, how awesome is that?"

When he realized there was no way to escape, Dean felt like throwing up. The feeling never really left.

He tried, in the beginning, he really did. The first two or three times he always went out with Mark with the sole intention to tell him to fuck off and leave him alone. But that bastard knew exactly what to say and how to act to steal Dean's carefully prepared words and make him into...this.

God, Dean was _disgusted_ with himself. He couldn't even look in the mirror. He was breaking, he knew that and he also knew that his friends started noticing the change, but he couldn't say anything. He didn't want them to know about Mark, about how weak he used to be, how weak he still was.

All it took was one word from Mark, one stupid remark on his clothes or food and Dean found himself slipping in the old rhythm of shaving constantly, because Mark hated it when it scratched and always having a deodorant with him, so that he couldn't accuse him of stinking.

It wasn't so much that he _cared_ whether Mark liked him or not, or craved his approval. But those words still hurt. Because, if you heard something being repeated enough, eventually you started believing it.

Dean never wanted his friends to find this out about him, because he was sure they wouldn't want to have anything in common with him anymore.

Dean Winchester was _someone_ in this place. He couldn't risk it. It was the only thing he had left.

He felt terrible about it, but he was actually grateful that he caught Matt running from their morning café with tears in his eyes the other day. Turned out he spent a drunken night with Tess – what a surprise – and when he asked her if she wanted to stay friends to find out what page she was on, she readily agreed. It devastated Matt and Dean really didn't want to be as glad it happened to his friend as he was, but at least it gave his friends some sort of a distraction.

He grabbed his shampoo and tried to rub the smell of Sam out of his hair. It was Wednesday, which meant Mark had a morning shift. But there was still a chance he could meet him in one of the corridors and Mark would smell Sam on him, he was sure of that.

Dean didn't want Mark to know anything about Sam. He wanted Sam to be safe. Jealous Mark was not a guy anyone should want to mess with.

He took his sweet time towelling, trying to delay the inevitable talk with Sam about what the hell happened last night for as long as possible.

Did he really need to get so drunk? He was used to hangovers, but that didn't make them any more pleasant each time he had one.

He didn't want to go out, he didn't want to leave the bathroom, because _out there_ was the place where Mark had a power over him. Where he could summon Dean just by texting him _I want to see you_ and Dean would come like an obedient dog.

Even though he tried to drink himself into oblivion, the scene from last night was burned into his brain just as clearly as though it happened a few minutes ago.

"_Hey, Deanie, look who I found," Mark smiled as Dean walked in the bar._

_He had his arm wrapped around some boy's waist. The boy must have been at least two years younger than Dean and he seemed vaguely familiar. Dean had probably had sex with him some time in the past. He was now smiling shyly and blinking up at Dean._

"_This is Trevor," Mark purred. "He said he would like something different. I told him we could teach him stuff. What do you say, babe? Can we take Trevor here over to your place and show him how it's done?" he said with a hint of mockery in his voice._

_Dean saw red._

"_Fuck you, Mark!" he yelled, not caring about the heads that turned their way. "You came here, telling me a buttload of bullshit about how you've changed and how you realized what a jerk you've been and shit like that and then you do _this? _Fuck you, I never want to see you again!" Dean yelled._

_He felt freer, his chest felt lighter, when he left the bar. Left Mark with the boy behind. It didn't bother him as much, he knew most of the guys their age were better looking, Mark told him that often enough. What was amazing was that he didn't care._

_That feeling lasted right until Mark ran after him and stopped him with a steady flow of apologies._

"_I should have asked you, god I'm such an idiot, I'm so sorry, Dean."_

"_Hey, you're the only one, you know that, right? He meant nothing. I just met him today. I'll never see him again."_

"_Come here, babe, come on. Don't be like that. It wasn't what it looked like."_

_Dean didn't even try to count how many times he'd heard exactly that. And then he was being pulled around the corner, where the light didn't shine and then Mark was on his knees and he was getting an apology blowjob._

_He just threw his head back and let Mark do whatever he wanted. When he came, he felt like crying._

"_Go to sleep, Deanie," Mark smiled, when he got back up and zipped his pants. "I'll see you tomorrow."_

_And then he went back to the bar. To Trevor._

_Dean found a nearest pub and drank and drank until they made him leave._

Dean drank a bit of water to fight down the sudden wave of nausea. Of course, he had to get drunk and then make a complete fool of himself. He didn't want to drag Sam into this. He didn't want him to _know_.

But last night he got weak; he launched himself at Sam like the weakling he was and now Sam probably saw right through him and hated him. He did push him away, after all. He shoved him and Dean fell and he'd probably lost his friend. The only person that seemed to like him for him.

When he finally built up the courage to open the door, he found the room empty.

There was no stopping the tears this time.

-xXx-

Sam was furious, with both Dean and himself.

He should have stuck to the original plan of going to sleep in his own bed and ignoring Dean. And he sure as hell shouldn't have been surprised when he was woken up by Dean's hurried retreat in the bathroom this morning.

He was still mad when he entered the classroom, so when Jess jokingly remarked that he 'looked like the embodied god of revenge', he told her to kindly shut up and mind her own business – in not so nice words.

She looked hurt and sat a few chairs away from him and later Sam was horrified, when he remembered he didn't even care at that time.

When the lesson was over, she came to him though, and carefully asked him if this was about Dean.

Sam apologized for being an ass to her and she just waved it off, saying that it was just one of those days.

"He's a mess, Jess," Sam sighed. "There's something wrong, I know it, but he won't let me in, he won't let me help!"

"Maybe you should stop trying, you know?" she suggested.

"I can't just give up on him, Jess," Sam frowned.

"Oh no, that was not what I meant. You let him know that he you were there for him, maybe you just need to let him come to you on his own terms."

"He seemed scared," Sam said thoughtfully. "I just...I wish I knew what to do!"

"Hey," Jess squeezed his shoulder. "It's gonna be okay," she smiled at him reassuringly.

"Thanks Jess," Sam smiled back, but he wasn't so sure if he believed it too.

When they met in their room later that afternoon, it was uncomfortably silent. Sam tried to work on his paper for History, but his mind was too occupied with _not_ watching (but hearing, sensing and anticipating) Dean's every move. Dean was reading a book, which was as good a sign of avoidance as any.

"Sam?" Sam's head snapped up at the sound of the senior's voice. "We're going out with the guys tonight. Some ploy against Matt and Tess I think," he chuckled. "Wanna come with?"

Sam almost howled. Figured, the one time that Dean decided to be Sam's friend again is when Sam really didn't have the time for that.

"Sorry, this paper's due tomorrow," Sam said apologetically. _And I completely forgot about it, because I was too busy worrying about you,_ he didn't add.

"Oh," Dean's face fell a little, but then his phone rang.

When Dean looked at the caller's ID, his face lost its colour and he took a deep breath, before picking up.

"Hello?" he said and closed himself in the bathroom.

"Today? But I already-," Sam heard, so if Dean was trying to hide this phone call from him, it didn't work. Sam didn't even feel bad for eavesdropping.

"With my friends."

"No! No, I don't-"

A weary sigh. "Okay."

"Yeah, see you there. Me too, bye."

Then there was silence for a little while until Dean spoke again.

"Hey Jim, it's me. Look, I'm really sorry, but I can't come today. Some flu or whatever, I've been puking my guts out for an hour now."

That peeked Sam's interest even more. Was he lying to Jim, because of his mysterious boyfriend? Seriously, why not just introduce him? There was more to this, Sam was sure.

"No, Sam's got some paper due tomorrow, so he's not coming either."

Then there was a chuckle, when Jim probably called Sam a hopeless nerd. "I know, right? But hey, he's the smartest one of us, maybe we should pay him some respect," he laughed and honestly, Sam didn't know how to feel about that.

"I hope I'll be fine by tomorrow, probably just something I ate. Yeah, you too. And fix them. Bye," and with that, Dean ended the call.

Shortly after that, he walked out of the bathroom, pretending like nothing ever happened. But Sam noticed that he was very deliberately not looking at him.

They pretended to be completely absorbed in their papers and books for about two hours, then Dean got up and started getting ready for going out.

When he was almost out of the door, Sam gave him one last chance to be honest with him.

"Where are you going?" he raised his head.

"Told you, we're going out with the others," Dean shrugged.

"I thought you said you were sick."

Sam let the words sink in. At first, Dean's forehead wrinkled with confusion and then it slowly cleared as his brain processed what Sam was implying. And Sam was keeping his gaze locked on Dean, letting him know that he _knew_ and that he wasn't gonna let Dean back out on this one again.

Dean's eyes widened in horror, his mouth fell open, then closed, then opened again and finally closed. Just when it seemed that he would start crying any second, he all but ran out of the door with a loud slam.

* * *

Later that night, but not as late as usually, Dean stumbled back to the room. But he wasn't drunk; he was more like...limping.

Sam shot from his bed, not even bothering to fake sleeping, but Dean probably didn't even notice him, he just went straight for the bathroom.

There was a distinct sound of vomiting and Sam had a sinking feeling that maybe he misjudged Dean, maybe his roommate actually was sick.

The coughing and retching stopped and then even the flushing toilet went quiet, but the bathroom wasn't silent.

There was a soft noise that Sam knew too well.

Dean was crying.

-xXx-

Dean was desperate. He was sitting on the closed lid of the toilet bowl and crying, because he reached the end of his rope and he didn't know what to do anymore.

Mark forced him to give him a blow-job. Well, forced was probably a strong word, because he didn't hold him down and open his mouth against Dean's will. He was never _violent_ with him, not when it came to sex at least. This was worse.

Mark said some bullshit about how Dean owed him a favour, since Mark went down on him the night before and Dean just sank to his knees like the little obedient whore he was. Slut, that was what he called him.

"_You like feeding yourself on my cock, don't you?" _he could still hear Mark's voice. _"Such a pretty little slut, go on, swallow what I give you."_

And Dean did. He was used to swallowing, but this time it was worse. He felt sick and he was afraid he'd throw up and Mark would be angry. Because then things _could _get violent.

He was so focused on keeping the come down in his stomach that Marks sudden launch caught him completely unprepared. Before he could even blink, he was smashed into the nearest fence. His head connected with the metal just as hard as his back and he was probably going to have bruises later, because he could feel it even now.

When he realized that Mark wasn't actually attacking him, but going for some kind of quick and rough against-the-fence sex, he pushed him away and walked away as quickly as possible, answering Mark's angry shouts with quiet apologies. Surprisingly, Mark just let him go.

He could feel the bile rising in his throat and started running.

When he finally got into his bathroom and threw up, he actually laughed at his situation, until the laughing subsided into tears.

With a painful groan, he pushed himself up and opened the door. He just wanted to get to his bed and sleep, preferably never wake up again.

As he opened the door, he was faced with what he wanted to see the least at this moment. Sam's concerned face.

"Dean," the freshman said and took a step towards him. Dean instinctively took a step back.

"Leave me alone, Sam," he hoped it didn't sound as panicky as he felt.

"Cut the crap, Dean," Sam hissed angrily.

Why was he angry? Did Dean do something? He probably woke him up. That must be it; he woke Sam up and the taller boy was pissed. Great, just what Dean needed.

"Sorry, it won't happen again," he mumbled and tried to brush past his roommate.

Sam would have none of it, though. He pushed Dean against the wall and got right into his face. Dean hissed painfully as his bruised back was being abused again.

Sam's eyes softened and he let go of Dean.

"Shit, sorry, are you hurt?" he asked and before Dean could do anything about it, he pushed his shirt up. "Holy crap," he gasped. The bruising was probably worse than Dean thought.

"Who did this to you? What is going on, Dean?" Sam demanded.

The panic and exhaustion welled up in Dean and came out as anger.

"Why do you care? It's none of your damn business. What's this really about, huh? You're wondering why I don't touch you anymore, is that it? You miss it? Do you want to know if we'll start doing that again? Why the fuck won't you leave me alone?!" he screamed, and even as those words were leaving his mouth, all he wanted to do was fall on his knees in front of Sam and beg him for forgiveness, say that he didn't mean any of those shit he was saying.

Scratch that, apparently, he'd just fallen on his knees in front of Sam. He felt dizzy. Was he getting sick on top of everything else?

Sam crouched with him and raised his arm up. Dean flinched and covered his face, because he expected a punch or a slap.

Hurt flickered across Sam's features and then Dean was being pulled into a hug. Dean felt like the lowest shit possible and he wanted to tell Sam that he should leave him alone. That he wasn't worth the trouble. That he was sorry.

"It's okay, Dean," Sam murmured into his hair as he started rocking them gently. "We'll figure this out. You're not alone in this. Let me help."

All Dean could do was hold on tight and cry. He was too tired to do anything else.


End file.
